


notes on paper

by kohee



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, General, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 68
Words: 35,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6752374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kohee/pseuds/kohee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short pieces on the characters we know and love. Barba/Benson, Carisi/Rollins for now.</p><p>064: shower - handyman, hand shower, getting wet, Barba/Benson<br/>065: tickle - basketball, competition, cheating, Barba/Benson<br/>066: old-fashioned - making out, getting caught, mothers, Barba/Benson<br/>067: gold - earring, lost and found, Barba/Benson<br/>068: rain - leaving, raining, returning, Barba/Benson</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 001: first kiss

**Author's Note:**

> drabble; prompt: _first kiss_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> prompt from @thebarsondaily [tumblr]

Their first kiss is nothing like how Olivia imagines it to be. 

They are both fiery, stubborn people who have been struggling to keep their emotions hidden. They have been dancing around each other for so long, that it is only a matter of time before their feelings spill over. Therefore, she visualises their first kiss to be fierce. Passionate. Hands everywhere, lips crashing, tongues battling. Each trying to assert dominance over the other.

However, as Barba cups her cheek with a hand, his touch is gentle. Caressing. There is a question in his eyes, an uncertainty. Maybe even a touch of fear. He isn’t sure whether this is okay. And she finds it strangely endearing, that the confident and arrogant Barba would ever be hesitant. 

Olivia slides her hand down from his shoulder to his waist, as she leans in closer. Her lips meet his; and his lips are soft, warm, and pliant. He kisses her slowly, his mouth gentle over hers, and again, she doesn’t expect him to kiss like this. That this brash and often insensitive ADA can be so tender in his kisses. 

His hand moves from her cheek to rest on her neck, as he pulls back after a long, delicious moment. Their eyes meet, and she can see the hesitance in them turning into relief as she gives him a slow, lazy smile. 

“That was…surprisingly gentle, Counselor.” She says, her tone teasing. “Not how I expected our first kiss to be.”

He smirks back at her as he curves his arm around her waist. “Well, Lieutenant, feel free to show me your…expectations, in our second kiss.”

Laughing, she twists her hand around his tie and yanks him closer, pressing her mouth to his. 

Their second kiss is exactly how she expects it to be.


	2. 002: good night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _good night_  
>  pairing: platonic (?) rafael barba & olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> prompt from @thebarsondaily [tumblr]

“You cannot say that.” Barba bites out sharply, tapping his pen against the folder on his lap as he glares at Benson.

She, in turn, rolls her eyes at him. “I beg to differ, Barba. I think detailing my experience, in this regard, will actually help our case.”

Barba loosens the knot of his tie, sighing audibly. “Look, Liv, point being, you will risk the jury thinking you’re putting emotions into this.”

She throws up her hands and huffs. “Okay, fine. We’ll both go through my testimony again, and decide again, all right?”

Leaning back, he scowls slightly and opens his folder. “Fine.”

They then settle into a strangely comforting silence, looking over their own notes and contemplating their own thoughts. Barba is soon lost in something else other than Benson’s testimony, as he looks through statutes and laws that will be favorable to their case, flipping through all the piles of papers and files scattered on the coffee table in his office.

All of a sudden, he feels a weight on his shoulder. Turning his head, he sees Benson’s head on his shoulder, her arms slack as the file she is holding slips from her grasp. A soft snore escapes her.

She had fallen asleep.

His first thought is to nudge her awake, but then he catches a glimpse of her face. Asleep, her face has that sort of peace that he has not seen from her in weeks.

This job, it takes and takes.

His chest constricts a little, and he thinks it may be his heart. Except it can’t be, really.

Still, Barba reaches over to grab his coat jacket from the armchair, being careful not to wake her. Gently, he then drapes the jacket over her shoulders.

“Good night, Lieutenant.” He murmurs with a slight smile.


	3. 003: urge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _urge_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> prompt from @thebarsondaily [tumblr]

Sometimes, Barba gets these urges to do something really stupid and out of character.

For example, teaming a bright yellow jacket with a bright pink shirt (sadly, that preceded a chain of events that he would then have nightmares trying to forget, for the guilt was, and still is, consuming).

Or taking a case that he had no confidence of winning, just because it was the right thing to do (this one was lame and stupid, and it really was all Benson’s fault, he didn’t use to want to do the right thing, he just wants to win, goddamnit).

Or substituting tea with coffee, in an attempt to reduce his caffeine intake (it didn’t work, and he spent the whole day in a foul mood, nearly strangling Carisi at one point).

Now, he watches Benson pacing around his office, venting her frustration that he is refusing to issue a warrant (for someone that she has no evidence of wrongdoing – as he keeps telling her, gut feelings cannot and will not give birth to warrants). Her eyes are blazing as she advances towards him, gesticulating sharply. She is all fire and heat, and he feels it.

And he gets this strongest urge to just grab her, spin her around and pin her to his desk, while kissing the living daylights out of her.

But as clearly illustrated in his past experiences, giving in to his urges is a stupid, stupid idea.

So he watches her prowl, careful to keep his smirk on his face, careful not to focus on her mouth.

Approximately five minutes later, he gives up, and gives in.

As her hands roam his back under his suit jacket, her mouth hot and fiery against his, Barba forgets why he ever thought that this could be a bad idea.


	4. 004: we could start here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _we could start here_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 383 words  
> prompt from @alloftheprompts [tumblr] - prompt set #763

He watches her as she sits across from him, frowning over a file, her hair in a messy knot and her glasses perched on her nose.

“You know, Liv…we should go out.” He says in an offhanded tone, tossing his binder on the table, still looking at her intently.

“What, are you hungry? Or do you need another coffee?” She responds in an absent-minded tone, her eyes not leaving the papers in her hand, her pen making incessant scribbles across the paper.

He sighs, and reaches across her to pick the sheaf of papers out of her hand. “No, Liv. I meant that we should go out.” He says, making sure that his emphasis is clear.

Liv takes off her glasses and stares at him for half a minute. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“This is getting to be so high-school.” He mutters under his breath, pushing a hand through his hair. Somehow, the scenario that was playing in his head had him a lot more smooth and suave that what he is now.

Liv laughs now, the sound light and airy. “Rafael Barba…are you asking me out on a date?”

He shrugs, and smirks. “If you want to call it that.”

She leans forward, tapping her teeth with her pen. “I thought you like things uncomplicated and straightforward.”

He leans forward, too, closer to her. “I do. But I know you. You know me. You, in fact, know me better than anyone that isn’t my mother. There’s nothing complicated about this.”

“Nothing complicated?” She raises an eyebrow. “Let’s see…there’s the matter of you being the prosecuting ADA for my squad, there’s the requirement of professionalism at work, the fact that fraternising among NYPD and the DA’s office is frowned upon…Noah…” Her voice trails as she looks at him. “I mean, where do we even start?”

“We could start here.” He angles his head, and then presses his lips against hers. She kisses him back without any hesitation, and it just feels natural. It feels right.

When they pull apart after a while, Liv knows that the look in his eyes reflects the look in hers. She smiles, and picks up his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

“Yeah…I think we should go out.”

Barba laughs, and kisses her again.


	5. 005: we'll joke about it one day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _we’ll joke about it one day_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson (in the eyes of teenage!noah porter-benson barba)  
> word count: 510 words  
> prompt from @alloftheprompts [tumblr] - prompt set #752

Noah is nervous.

It is the all important fifth date and it has ended well. He had asked her after dinner (and he is proud that he didn’t go all squeaky like he feared he would), and Alison had agreed (and they had smiled and laughed, and shared a kiss that made him feel like this is going to be something really special).

He’s walking her home, and he will pass his own apartment on the way, and Noah suddenly thinks it may be a great idea to bring Alison home, to say hi to his mother and his father. It’s informal, he tells her, just to say hello, and he just wants her to meet his family because he’s feeling so _happy_.

Alison agrees, and soon, he’s inserting his house key into the lock, reassuring his new girlfriend that his parents are going to _love_ her. The lock clicks, and the door swings open.

And Noah wishes he could just slam the door shut again. Or go back in time where he did _not_ suggest coming home to see his parents.

His mother is _straddling_ his father on the couch, her hands cupping his face as she kisses him fiercely. Her blouse is sliding down one shoulder. His father’s tie is loosened, his shirt unbuttoned and his hands are on an area of his mother’s body that Noah definitely _does not_ want to think about, _ever._

In his shock, he yells. “Mom! Papi!”

The two adults on the couch spring apart in surprise, and as their eyes land on their son and the very attractive redhead beside him, they both begin stammering apologies as Liv hurriedly readjusts her blouse, and Barba buttons his shirt in lightning speed.

Averting his eyes, Noah waves a hand at his parents. “It’s okay…uhhh…I’ll…well…” _carry on_ is on the tip of his tongue but once he thinks of that, he also thinks about bleaching his brain.

So he does the one thing he can think of, that is to turn around, and _run_.

“Bye!”

“Uhhh, nice meeting you, Mr Barba, Mrs Barba!” Alison manages to squeak out before Noah slams the door shut.

He looks as his new girlfriend for a long moment. There’s something incredibly disturbing about being eighteen, and coming home to see his parents making out. “You did not see that.”

She laughs, and takes his hand. “It’s okay. We’ll joke about it one day.”

–

“That was awkward.” Barba comments, as the door slams shut.

“ _Awkward?_ ” Liv covers her face in embarrassment and throws a cushion at her husband. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

He laughs, setting aside the cushion, and pulls Liv’s hands away from her face, angling closer to kiss her neck gently.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Liv stands up and pushes him away, re-buttoning her skirt. “This is how it started in the first place.”

He stands up, too, grabbing his wife’s hand and pulling her close to him. “It’s okay, Liv. We’ll joke about it one day.”

She rolls her eyes, but kisses him anyway.


	6. 006: smell of rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _smell of rain_  
>  pairing: platonic rafael barba & olivia benson  
> word count: 429 words  
> prompt from @alloftheprompts [tumblr] - prompt set #745

Olivia is unfortunate enough to catch the first few minutes of the downpour, and she gets into 1 Hogan Place with her coat damp, and her hair wet. Taking off her coat, she quickens her steps as she walks towards Barba’s office. Barba is not in yet – no surprises, he’s probably getting himself caffeinated (and possibly getting soaked, the rain is getting heavier now) – and Carmen is perfectly happy to let her wait inside Barba’s office, and gives her a towel to dry herself.

She is just starting to towel her hair dry when the door bangs open, and a dripping wet Barba strides in, holding a soggy cup of coffee. He’s looking so disgruntled, and so dishevelled, and about ten times wetter than she had been, that she can’t help but snorts with laughter, and he scowls at her.

“Glad to see that another person’s misery is amusing you, Liv.” He drawls, hanging up his waterlogged coat. “Why are you here?”

“Good morning to you, too, Barba.” She says pleasantly. “We had an appointment about the Kithson case. Remember?”

“Oh yes, that woman who has recanted – what – thrice? Four times? Brilliant. Give me a minute while I go and try to make myself look somewhat human.”

He reappears ten minutes later, his hair slicked back, and he’s dressed in a crisp blue polka-dot shirt, grey waistcoat and his coordinating tie is expertly knotted. Whereas her wet hair is only slightly more presentable, and there are still faint water streaks on her blouse and her slacks.

“Good grief, Barba, do you keep a closet in your office?”

“Let’s move on to matters more pressing than my wardrobe, shall we?” He sits down beside her, and she realises under the scent of his cologne, he smells of rain.

It smells very fresh, new, and somehow comforting.

“Liv?”

She comes to, and she realises that she has been spacing out, her senses enveloped by the fact that Barba smells of rain.

“Sorry, where are we at now?” She switches her attention back to her work, as Barba thrusts a file at her.

As she is pursuing the file, she looks up to see Barba looking at her in a rather un-Barba way.

“You smell of rain.” He says bluntly, his brow wrinkled.

Her heart skips a beat, but she merely shrugs at him. “The rain’s soaked through your head, Barba.”

He glares at her. “Oh, how witty.”

But she notices he takes a couple of deep breaths, taking in the scent of rain, and she’s pretty sure she does that, too.


	7. 007: forgive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _forgive_  
>  pairing: (platonic?) rafael barba & olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: post the unholiest alliance  
> prompt from @thebarsondaily [tumblr]

He rapped on her office door, two sharp knocks, and she looked up, still in the midst of rearranging her files on her shelves.

“The files for the Gleeson case.” He said crisply, dropping a folder onto her desk.  Without meeting her eyes, he added. “Welcome back, Lieutenant.”

She watched him go, a funny feeling descending upon her. She didn’t like it, this awkwardness, it wasn’t them. “Wait, Barba.”

He stopped, but he didn’t turn.

“We need to talk.”

Finally, he turned around with a wry half-smile. “What about?”

“You needed to ask that?” Disbelief was written all over her face.

He raised an eyebrow sardonically, but said nothing.

She gritted her teeth. “Look, I’m sorry for not telling you about me and Tucker.”

“On the contrary…” he drawled. “I’m not sorry for telling 1PP about you and Tucker. I have nothing to be sorry for. I was merely doing my job.”

 _Unlike you._ The unspoken words hung in the air.

“Why are you so _angry_ anyway?” She burst out.

“I thought you trusted me. After all, we’re supposed to have each other’s back.” He shrugged. “But I thought wrong.”

“Barba, it wasn’t like that. I…”

“You know what?” He interrupted. “What’s done is done. You don’t owe me an explanation. And frankly, I’m not interested in one.”

His words cut her deeper than she expected, and for a moment, she thought she could feel actual, physical pain.

She took a deep breath. “Fine. Can you forgive me so at least we can still work together?”

He finally raised his eyes to meet hers, and there were no traces of anger left, just resignation.

“Liv, it’s not my place to forgive.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving their relationship irrevocably changed.

Suddenly, she wondered if Tucker was worth it.


	8. 008: forgive (take two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _forgive (take two)_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> prompt from @thebarsondaily [tumblr]

It is merely a preliminary discussion about a case. It is another one of those “she-said he-said” cases that, frankly, irritates him more than anything, but she finds the woman credible.

He is pointing out discrepancies which she thinks are irrelevant, and he is being too stringent for her liking.

Liv being Liv, isn’t one to mince her words when she is all heated and worked up. Barba being Barba, isn’t one to stop the sarcastic quips either.

And before he knows it, they are – as she had once fondly puts it – _squabbling_.

“Barba, I swear you’re doing this just to piss me off.” She growls in frustration.

“Oh, don’t give me that, Liv.” He retorts. “You’re not a damn rookie; you _know_ I need more than tears, ripped clothes and your bleeding heart.”

She stands up and presses her palms on her desk, scowling at him. “You’re a fucking ass, Barba.”

He stands up, too, pushing his chair back, and leaning forward to meet her gaze challengingly. “And you’re being obstinate and difficult. How extremely unusual for you.”

They stood there, glaring at each other, and Barba looks at her; she is all fire and anger, determined to get her own way, and something in him just snaps.

Placing his hands on either side of her face, he drags her forward, and kisses her square on the mouth, tasting her heat and her stubbornness.

But he doesn’t feel her responding, and suddenly aware of what he is doing, he pulls back, feeling horrified. There is no forgiving this, he had behaved atrociously.

“I’m sorry…” He sputters uncharacteristically, taking a step back.

But then she smiles, and leans forward, hooking her fingers around his suspenders, pulling him to her. “You’re forgiven.” She breathes.

Kissing, Barba decides, is much better than squabbling.


	9. 009: everything will be alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _everything will be alright_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson   
> word count: 641 words  
> note: damn you, threats on barba’s life svu finale spoilers. Also – i know “barba is shot” has been done to death (and done better), apologies for the unoriginality.   
> prompt from @alloftheprompts [tumblr] - prompt set #771

It all happened so fast.

It was a day like any other. She was ribbing him about his new suit – _honestly Barba, do you ever wear the same thing twice? –_ and he was snarking back at her – _well, Liv, some of us actually cared about how we looked…speaking of which, is that the same pantsuit worn thrice in three weeks?_ – and she was rolling her eyes, jabbing him in the ribs, when gun shots rang out.

“DOWN!” She shouted at him, and to everyone around them, drawing her own gun on instinct as she swivelled around to the direction of the gun shots. But it was all chaotic, people were running everywhere, and the officers around the courthouse were spread out, guns drawn.

She whipped around to order him to safety, only to see him slowly collapsing on the ground, a look of shock on his face, and blood staining his suit.

 _No_.

Immediately, she dropped to her knees beside him, whipping off her blazer and pressing her blazer and her hand against the bullet wound on his stomach, pressing hard to stall the flow of blood as he gasped in pain.

“Call a bus!” She screamed, almost not recognising the note of hysteria tingeing her voice. Lieutenant Olivia Benson was never hysterical after all.

“Shouldn’t have worn the new suit. Blood stains are a bitch to get out.” He coughed weakly, eyes fluttering shut.

A strange sound escaped her, something that sounded half like a sob, and half like a laugh. “Stay with me, Barba.” She urged, cradling his head onto her lap, her hands streaky with blood, his blood. “Stay with me. Everything will be alright.”

Everything had to be alright.

–

He was rushed to surgery, and there was nothing for her to do, but wait. Her squad came by, Barba was one of them after all, but sensing that there was more for them to do outside of the hospital – the shooter had not been caught, there were witnesses to talk to – they all left.

She stayed.

 _Everything will be alright_ , she kept telling herself, repeating the phrase over and over in her head like a mantra.

_I cannot lose you._

It was only with his blood staining her hands, only then she realised the depth of her feelings for him. And suddenly, she didn’t understand what she was so afraid of. She should’ve been honest. She could’ve taken the leap.

Should’ve, could’ve. It all meant so little now.  

_Stay with me._

–

Everything was dark. Everything was hurting. He tried to open his eyes, and winced as he tried to adjust his vision to the harsh lighting of the hospital room.

He turned his head slightly, to see her sleeping on the chair beside his bed, her head next to his arm.

He lifted his hand, and rested it lightly atop her head, as she stirred. She opened her eyes, and a smile broke over her tired face.

“Hey. How’re you feeling?”

“Like crap.” He managed. “What a waste of a two thousand dollar suit.”

She laughed, but her throat was tight, and she knew her eyes were brimming with tears.  She tried her hardest to hold it in, and he could see it.

And he understood.

He reached for her hand, and laced his fingers with hers, squeezing her hand gingerly.

“I’m fine. Everything will be alright, Liv.”

She lifted his hand to her face, pressing it against her cheek, feeling how warm and alive he is.

“Barba, I…”

“I know.” He cut her off gently. “But I’ll rather hear all of what you have to say when I’m slightly more awake, and slightly less high on painkillers. I want to remember every single word of it.”

She laughed, and turned her head to kiss his hand.

_Everything will be alright._

_Everything is alright now._


	10. 010: they went there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _they went there_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson (in the eyes of dominick “sonny” carisi jr & odafin tutuola)  
> word count: 530 words  
> prompt from @alloftheprompts [tumblr] - prompt set #772

Things must have not had gone well in court, Carisi muses, for the Lieutenant is _definitely_ in a bad mood.

She stalks into the precinct with a rather uncharacteristic scowl on her face, with Barba walking behind her (now, in contrast, that classic Barba glower is definitely of the norm), loosening his tie in a rather jerky _I’m so pissed off_ manner.

The Lieutenant marches into her office, and Barba follows. The door shuts with a slam, and the blinds are lowered.

Pushing his chair back, Carisi strolls nonchalantly towards the Lieutenant’s office, stopping outside the door, ears perked.

“Carisi.” Fin calls out, frowning.

“Just…stretching my legs.” He grins, like it isn’t totally obvious that he is trying to snoop. Fin shakes his head, but he doesn’t say anything, so Carisi reckons it’s okay for him to _stretch his legs_.

“How many times…you cannot just _jump_ on the witness…”  The Lieutenant’s tone was sharp, but her voice was a little muffled, and he strains to hear.

“Well…I thought I’m supposed to…just trying to _make a point_ …”

“A little compassion…too much for you, perhaps…”

Carisi walks to the window of the office, and angles his head to peer through the blinds, and catches sight of Barba, his arms crossed, and the Lieutenant, gesturing angrily.

“Come on now, Benson. Don’t go all _maternal_ on me.” Barba raises his voice, and Carisi hears every word, and he winces.

_Oooh. He went there._

“What now, Barba? Your _big brass ego_ couldn’t take the fact that you may be wrong?” The Lieutenant’s voice is matching Barba’s in tone and volume.

_Oooh. She went there._

Carisi scurries back to his original spot outside the door, he is able to hear better from there.

“Your _stubbornness_ is extremely unattractive, Lieutenant.”

“And your _arrogance_ is extremely nauseating, Counselor.”

_Oooh. They both went there._

He continues listening, but hears nothing. It has become very quiet all of a sudden. He frowns, feeling just a little apprehensive.

“Hey, Fin…you reckon that the Lieutenant had maybe shot Barba or somethin’? Should we go in?”

“No.” Fin says, without looking up. “And I’d move away from that door if I were you.”

Carisi shoots Fin a look – well, he should know better – but from all that yelling to complete silence?

He slides back to the spot outside the window and squints through the blinds again. What he sees nearly makes him fall over in shock.

The Lieutenant and Barba are all tangled up with each other. _Kissing_. And rather ferociously and passionately, if he may say. Her fingers are gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as she aggressively backs him up against her desk, whilst his hands have a very firm grip on her ass.

Carisi turns to Fin, pointing towards the Lieutenant’s office, and sputters. “Fin…the Lieutenant…and Barba…they…they…”

“Please don’t say it. I don’t need to know. I don’t _ever_ want to know the specifics of what Liv and Barba might be doing behind closed doors.” Fin says, grimacing, eyes still focusing on his computer, tapping away.

Carisi’s head swivelled towards the office, and then back to Fin again. “You…you _knew?”_

Fin snorts derisively. “Learn to be more observant, newbie.”


	11. 011: are you going to punch me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _are you going to punch me?_  
>  pairing: dominick “sonny” carisi jr/amanda rollins  
> word count: 511 words  
> prompt from alloftheprompts [tumblr]; prompt set #762

“I don’t think this is a very good idea.” Carisi looks around nervously, as Amanda laughs and pushes him into the holding cell.

“Come on, Carisi. Where’s your sense of adventure?” She purrs, backing him up against the wall of the cell as she tugs at his tie.

This is what happens whenever they work late together, and when Amanda inevitably gets bored with whatever they are working on. Not that he’s complaining – God, _no_ \- but to be doing this in the holding cell seems kind of…well… _wrong_.

But also kind of exciting, if he can be honest.

A smile slowly spreads over her face as she steps into his space, wrapping his tie around her hand. She gives it a hard yank, pulling him down to meet her as she raises her head and covers his mouth with hers.

He groans and kisses her back with equal fervour, putting his hands on either side of her face, running his fingers through her hair as she nibbles on his bottom lip, demanding entry. Her tongue pushes against his; as usual, she wants to take the lead, and as usual, he lets her, his head spinning with the taste and the sense of her.

She moulds her body against his, slipping her hands into the back pockets of his pants, angling her head to draw him into an even deeper kiss, as his fingers dig into the curves of her hips.

It’s his turn to take the lead now, as he lifts his mouth from hers, hearing her whimper in protest as he spins her around so that now her back is against the wall. He wastes no time in sealing her lips with his, drinking her in.

He slips his hand beneath her untucked shirt, feeling the warmth and the softness of her bare skin. He could never get enough of this, he thinks, never ever, and…

“Amanda. Carisi.” A crisp voice interrupts them, and they both jump apart in horror.

Olivia glares at them from the doorway of the holding cell, her arms crossed. Fin stands next to her, his expression almost murderous as he stares down Carisi. He knows that Fin has a protective streak for his partner.

Carisi thinks his life may be ending fairly soon.

“I would appreciate it if you two would get back to work, _now_ , and see me tomorrow first thing in the morning.” Olivia says coolly, and then she turns and leaves without a backward glance.

Sheepishly, Amanda and Carisi both straighten their clothes and exit the holding cell. Fin lets Amanda through, and then he blocks Carisi, still scowling.

Carisi swallows nervously. “Urm. Are you going to punch me?”

Fin glares at him menacingly. “If you _ever_ let me see that again…I swear I’ll punch you, twice.” He steps aside and the younger man scurries out.

Amanda makes a beeline for her desk as he follows her, shuddering dramatically.

“Never doing this again.” He mutters to her.

She leans closer to him, brushing his cheek with a kiss. “At least…not at work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally an excuse for me to write Carisi and Rollins making out. I’m not even sorry.


	12. 012: secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _secret_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> prompt from @thebarsondaily [tumblr]

Barba thinks they’re rather good at keeping their secret.

It’s business as usual at work. Maybe he does come into the precinct more often than usual. And it does seem like he brings Liv coffee every day, but buying Liv coffee hardly unusual.

Maybe they do go out for lunch, dinner and drinks more frequently, but the cases have been piling up, and meal times are easily presumed to be revolving around their jobs.

Maybe they now tend to touch each other a little more often. He finds that his hand sometimes drift down from the middle of her back to her waist, or her hip. Or sometimes Liv’s hand on his shoulder will trail down his back where she’ll start tracing absent-minded patterns, almost subconsciously.

(In fact, he needs to tell her to stop doing that, as that is actually something she likes to do after they have sex. And it is _extremely_ distracting when she starts doing that in the office.)

And occasionally Liv hooks her arm through his, and sometimes she leans into him as they walk together. But that is not surprising at all. It has always been like that with them, that easy comfort that they have with each other physically, even before he started loving her.

Therefore, it comes as a huge surprise when Fin stands up after a long day of case discussion, and announces that he is going home, and their “constant goo-goo eyes” at each other is making him sick.

Barba and Liv both stare at him open-mouthed.

“Like it wasn’t totally obvious? Oh, come on, you two.” Fin grumbles, and leaves.

They look at each other, and then Barba grins.

“Since it’s no longer a secret…” He then pulls her to him and plants a kiss squarely on her mouth.


	13. 013: if you would just hold still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _if you would just hold still_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 410 words  
> prompt taken from witterprompts [tumblr]

“Damnit, Liv, that _hurts_.” Barba winces and jerks his hand back as a reflex, but Liv holds on to his wrist with firm fingers.

“If you would just hold still, then it wouldn’t hurt as much. Stop fidgeting.” She scolds, dabbing at the cuts across his fingers with cotton soaked in iodine.

“Honestly, it’s just a cut.” He grumbles, flinching at the sting of the antiseptic.

“ _Cuts_.” Liv corrects. “Although, I have to ask, how on earth did you manage to slice three of your fingers at once?” She asks, one eyebrow raised.

“I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it might incriminate me.” Barba isn’t about to tell her that he cut his fingers while trying slice some bread for Noah’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Hell, he himself can’t understand how on earth he managed that. It was cutting bread, for God’s sake.

Anyway, he had then cleaned up the mess, hurriedly washed off the blood and wrapped tissues around his injured hand, pulled on a glove and prepared cereal and milk for Noah instead.

Liv had entered the kitchen five minutes later to Barba sitting at the kitchen counter with a pile of bloodied tissues beside him, and proceeded to lecture him about infections while getting out the first-aid kit.

She laughs, shaking her head as she takes out a box of plasters. “Sorry, you’re getting Pokemon plasters, because that’s all I have.”

Barba grimaces. “Really? I have a grand jury inquiry later today, at five o’clock.”

“Well, then you gotta go catch ‘em all.” She teases, peeling off a plaster and wrapping it neatly around his index finger, and then the other two fingers in quick succession. “There! Next time, please do me a favour and watch yourself around knives.”

She begins putting back the supplies into the first-aid kit as he waggles his Pokemon-decorated fingers at her.

“Aren’t you going to kiss it to make it better?” He asks with a devilish grin.

“I swear, you’re worse than Noah sometimes, and he’s three.” Nevertheless, she picks up his hand and plants three kisses to the tips of his injured fingers.

Barba laughs, and pulls her down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. “I don’t mean _that_ kind of kiss.”

She loops her arms around his neck, smiling playfully. “Oh? Do tell, Counselor.”

“Show, not tell.” He says, dropping a kiss on her nose, before claiming her lips with his own.

 _end_  
  
note:  
Liv’s first line (and the whole injury ‘plot’ (cuz let’s be honest, this is plotless)) stolen from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (like it isn’t obvious). But half the line is actually the prompt so I think I’m getting away with it, haha.


	14. 014: secret (take two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _secret (take two)_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson (from the eyes of dominick ‘sonny’ carisi jr.)  
> word count: 713 words  
> prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]

“Carisi, are you tired of living?” Barba asks irritably as the camera clicks and whirrs. 

“Sorry, Counselor.” Carisi lowers his camera and grins. “But you see, my little sister, Bella, y’know, the one with the baby, has asked me take some family portraits and all for her, and I just bought this _awesome_ new lens, and…” his voice trails off as Barba rolls his eyes and stalks past him, walking straight into the Lieutenant’s office.

“…and I just want to test it out.” He finishes lamely.

Amanda and Fin snigger from where they are sitting.

\--

Carisi goes around snapping photos of everyone and everything that he comes across in the next few days. Coming from a big family where memories and togetherness are of utmost importance, he wants to make sure that his baby sister and his baby niece (and Tommy, he supposes) will have some really wonderful family photos.

It’s a quiet night on call and he decides to look through his work of the past few days. Carefully plugging the memory card into his laptop, he shifts through the photos, feeling rather satisfied with his work.

There are quite a few candid photos of his colleagues. He snickers at one of Fin falling asleep on top of his case files, and another one where Fin was frowning at his photo being taken. He also caught one of Amanda by the coffee machine, scrolling through her phone and smiling – probably looking at photos of Jesse. There is also a photo of Dodds, looking very disgruntled as Chief Dodds pointed a finger at him.

(And he is proud of the artistic shots of files, chairs, whiteboards and the snack machine, no matter what Fin and Amanda says.)

He begins categorising his photos into folders, shifting and organising them, when he chances upon a photo of the Lieutenant and Barba.

_Huh._

It is a candid shot; probably taken when he was in one of his “clicking away” moods. It was taken at the courthouse – he remembers the day, he was trying his hand at “architectural” shots – and the Lieutenant and Barba were standing on the steps. He had unknowingly zoomed in on them, and hence they were captured _very_ clearly.

They were standing very close to each other. Barba’s arm was _wrapped around_ the Lieutenant’s waist, and she had her hand on his shoulder. Her head was thrown back in laughter, and Carisi had managed to capture one of the rarest sights in existence – Barba, _smiling_.

Smiling, as he looked at the Lieutenant, and his expression was…

Well, even Carisi can figure this one out.

But wow. _Wow_.

\--

“Lieu. Counselor.” Carisi raps on the office door and sticks his head in. They both look up, as he hands some photos to them.

“These are taken from the street camera just outside the vic’s house. Me and Amanda have looked through it and found nothing of importance, but maybe you want to take another look.”

“Thanks, Carisi.” Liv takes the photos, and flicks through them, as Carisi hovers.

“Anything else?” Barba asks, his tone snappy as per usual.

“Uhhh…” Making up his mind, Carisi extracts a photo from the folder he is holding. “Thought you might want to have this.” He hands it to Barba and grins, before exiting the office and closing the door.

Sighing, Barba looks at the photo and does a double take. “When did he even…?”

“What is it?” Liv leans forward on her desk as Barba flips the photo at her, a slight scowl on his face. She takes the photo, and looks at it, saying nothing.

“Well, it’s obvious he knows.” Barba says tetchily.

“So?” Liv shrugs. “They’d eventually find out anyway.”

“But _Carisi_ , of all people. Did you see that smug grin he gave us?”

She smiles, reaching across the table, taking his hand and squeezing it. “It’s okay, Raf.”

He lifts her hand to his lips and brushes her knuckles with a kiss, while he picks up the photo with his other hand, giving it a closer look.

“I supposed it _is_ a good photo.” He grudgingly admits.

Liv laughs, and nods.

In fact, she plans to ask Carisi for a proper print, so that she can frame it up, and display it at home.


	15. 015: horror movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _horror movies_  
>  fandom: law & order: svu  
> pairing: platonic (?) rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 526 words  
> note: this drabble came to me after my friend commented “I think Barba screams like a girl.” This is supremely crack-like, me thinks, and completely pointless. But have at it.

 “What do you mean, you’ve never watched The Shining?” Liv’s pen pauses in the middle of its scribbling as she stares at Barba.

“Or The Exorcist, or Poltergeist, or Psycho, or The Omen…or any of the so-called classic horror movies, really.” He shrugs. “I’m really not a fan of the horror genre, in general.”

She leans back in her chair and scrutinises him, and then she lets out a chuckle. “Barba…you’re not _scared_ , are you?”

“ _Scared_?” He looks offended. “Don’t be ridiculous, Liv. I merely like my movies to have a little more substance and meaning.”

“Well, since we’re almost nearly done prepping for this case, and the night is still young, and Noah’s already asleep…we’re watching The Shining.” She decides.

He frowns. “What? _No_. I told you, I simply am not interested.”

She grins and holds up a doodle of a chicken on her writing pad.  

“ _Fine_.”

-

“I made popcorn.” Liv says, sitting down on the couch beside Barba, and clicks on the television.

“I cannot believe I’m doing this.” He makes a disgruntled face and sips his scotch.

“Try not to scream.” She teases, passing him the bowl of popcorn, comfortably opting to sit cross-legged on the couch. They both settle into companionable silence as the movie begins.

She can feel him tensing up as the movie progresses, subconsciously reaching for a pillow on her couch, cradling his scotch glass. She notices him averting his eyes more than once and makes a mental note to tease him about it later.  

Who would’ve thought that ADA Rafael Barba would actually be scared at horror movies?

As the movie builds up to its climax, Barba is definitely on the edge, as he inches closer to Liv, his scotch and the popcorn forgotten. As Jack Nicholson begins his rampage on the screen, he inadvertently turns his face and presses it against Liv’s shoulder, almost shuddering, as Shelley Duvall starts hacking at Nicholson’s hand.

Liv snickers, patting Barba’s thigh with one hand. “You okay there, Barba?”

“Shut up, Benson.” He says, still not looking at the screen.

As the movie finishes and the credits start to roll, Barba turns to glare at Liv. “That is a terrible movie. And people call this a classic?”

She laughs out loud and pokes him at the ribs. “Admit it. You were scared.”

“I was not!”

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

“ _Excuse me?_ Liv…”

She holds up her hands in mock surrender, still laughing. “Well, at least you can now tell people you’ve seen The Shining.”

“Oh, what a great achievement.” He grouses.

“The Exorcist next week?”

“Not a chance in hell.” He snaps.

“Then you choose a movie.”

“Then I’m making you watch Slaughterhouse-Five.”

She makes a face. “Well, I did say you can pick.”

He smirks and collects his coat and briefcase as she walks him to the door, and they bid each other goodnight.

It isn’t until after she closes her door, and as he waits for the elevator that they both realise that they have sort of made a date – a movie date - for next week.

And it feels…nice. Kind of strange, maybe.

But nice.


	16. 016: wait a minute. are you jealous?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _wait a minute. are you jealous?_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 514 words  
> prompt from barsonaddict [tumblr] via alwaysbellamyblake’s tumblr fic meme

She’s standing a little too close to him, her expression a little too animated for his liking.

Barba sips his scotch and glowers darkly as he watches Liv gestures with her wineglass and laughs at something that Cassidy had said. Cassidy’s hand rests on her sleeve and he gives her upper arm a quick squeeze.

Barba briefly contemplates breaking those fingers that are currently touching _his_ Olivia oh-so-casually.

He has given them five minutes for their little reunion, he reckons that that is more than enough time (it’s five minutes too much, to be honest). He walks over to Liv and Cassidy and fixes a tight smile on his face.

“Detective Cassidy, long time.” He says sardonically.

“Counselor.” Cassidy acknowledges, his smile as forced as Barba’s, as he grasps his hand in a brief handshake, but Barba notices that his eyes are still trained on Liv. Not that he can fault the other man, she’s a little dressier tonight, wearing a wrap dress instead of her usual pant suit, and therefore looking even more beautiful than usual.

Which reminds him, it is _their_ date night and this idiot Cassidy is being an eyesore.

He steps back and slips his arm around Liv’s waist, pulling her close to his side. He leans over and catches her lips with his, giving her a brief, hard kiss.

“Liv, we’re late for our dinner reservation.” He drawls, feeling utterly satisfied as realisation, and a hint of disappointment, dawns over Cassidy’s face.

“Oh, I didn’t realise I was...interrupting.” He says slowly, looking from her to him.

“You’re not.” Liv smiles easily, expertly covering up any awkwardness on her part. “It’s good to see you, Brian.”

“Likewise. You take care, Liv.” He smiles quickly and melts into the crowd.

Once Cassidy is out of sight, she turns to him, her eyebrow raised. “You want to tell me what that display of caveman-like behaviour is about?”

He shrugs. “He was too close for comfort. And I don’t particularly like it.”

Liv stares at him for a moment, and then snickers. “Raf. Wait a minute. Are you _jealous_?”

His first instinct is to scoff and laugh it off, the thought of confident, arrogant Rafael Barba being _jealous_ of _Cassidy_ is absurd.

But the thing is...that’s not exactly the truth. And he and Liv, they’ve always been honest with each other.

Completely ignoring the fact that they are in public, he wraps his other arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him. “Insanely.” He growls, and kisses her possessively. He opens her mouth with his, further deepening the kiss and she gladly obliges, sliding her fingers into his hair.

She pulls back after a long moment, her cheeks flushed, leisurely stroking the nape of his neck.

“Hmmm...maybe I don’t mind so much you being jealous.”

“I rather you not make this a habit.” He says dryly.

She laughs, and draws him closer, kissing him again.

“Don’t worry.” She breathes against his lips. “You have absolutely nothing to be jealous about.”

Even if she does not say it out loud, she’s his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> List of prompts available and reblogged [here](http://notesfrome.tumblr.com/post/144179893729/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you) at my tumblr. Feel free to request! Ask box is open, as always.


	17. 017: i think we need to talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _i think we need to talk_  
>  pairing: dominick “sonny” carisi jr/amanda rollins   
> word count: 660 words  
> prompt from anonymous on tumblr via alwaysbellamyblake’s tumblr fic meme

Carisi opens his eyes groggily as his hand stretches out to his side, and only touches cool sheets. Yawning, he sits up, rumpling his hair, and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He slips on a pair of slippers, noting that the apartment is very quiet, which means Jesse is probably still asleep.

He brushes his teeth quickly, and wanders out of the bedroom to see Amanda seated at the kitchen counter, munching on a piece of toast and staring out of the window.

“Hey.” He says, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a mug, filling it with coffee that she had brewed earlier.

“Hey.” She echoes, flashing a brief smile as she grabs the second piece of toast from the toaster.

“And I thought that was for me.” He teases, sitting down across from her.

She passes him the breadbox, almost absent-mindedly, as he eyes her curiously. There’s something on her mind, it’s obvious. She fiddles with the bread crust on her plate. “Carisi, I think we need to talk.”

He freezes in the motion of putting bread into the toaster. He feels his mouth going dry. This could not be a good thing. It’s never a good thing when someone says _we need to talk_.

Hell, he’s been putting off talking for the past month that they’ve been…well…sleeping together. He had wanted to _talk_ since that very first night, but he knows how Amanda is about the whole relationship thing. Their first time was admittedly a drunken encounter of some sorts, but he damn well knows where his heart stands when it comes to her.

So when it keeps happening, and she initiates it, she doesn’t stop it, she doesn’t kick him out, and she lets him stay the night, he just holds it all in and goes along with it. He keeps telling himself he’ll start the conversation soon, but he never does.

Because he knows that he has a very real chance of losing all of this. Losing her.

Not that he ever really had her in the first place, but still.

“Okay.” He says, abandoning his toast and pushing away the bread box. “So...what’s on your mind?”

“Well...” She takes a deep breath. “I cleared out a couple of drawers in my room. For you. Y’know, if you want to put some stuff there, or something.”

He stares at her. She’s avoiding his eyes, developing a sudden obsession with her bread crust. He _knows_ her, and he knows what this means, how much this means. His feelings for her suddenly overwhelm him, and he actually feels like his heart might jump out of his chest.

“Okay.” He grins. He pulls the toaster to him again as she looks up and stares at him in disbelief.

“That’s it?”

“Uhhh...thanks?”

She stands up, one hand on her hip and her eyes wide. “Carisi, are you serious? Do you know how much that took for me to actually...to clear a fucking drawer and that’s your response? Okay? And oh, _thanks_? Is that all you can...”

The rest of her tirade is lost as his mouth descends upon hers, as he kisses her, crushing her body against his, telling her all she needs to know.

They part after a long moment, but he keeps his arms around her. He’s aware that he’s smiling like a complete idiot, but she doesn’t seem to mind, her fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“That’s a much better response.” She murmurs.

“Y’know, since I have drawers - _two_ of them - at your place now, you think maybe you can stop calling me by my last name?”

She slips her hands under his shirt, up his back. “Maybe not until I give you hangars on the clothes rail?”

“Amanda...”

She laughs, standing on tiptoe and pressing her mouth to his. “Dominick.” She breathes against his lips, and he thinks he’s never heard his first name sounding more wonderful than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> List of prompts available and reblogged [here](http://notesfrome.tumblr.com/post/144179893729/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you) at my tumblr. Feel free to request! Ask box is open, as always.


	18. 018: ice-cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _ice-cream_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]

“Phish food.” Barba decides, grabbing a tub of Ben & Jerry’s off the supermarket shelf.

Liv makes a face. “Really? I prefer Strawberry Cheesecake.”

“You picked the flavour last week. It’s my turn.”

She looks at him, and laughs. The sight of Barba practically hugging a tub of ice-cream is hilarious.

Endearing, but hilarious.

“Fine, you win.” She drops a kiss on his cheek and moves on.  
  


* * *

  
It’s Barba's turn to tuck Noah in, and fortunately Noah is in a rather sleepy mood, falling asleep after only one reading of Green Eggs and Ham.

“Noah’s asleep.” He announces, wandering out to the living room where Liv is watching television, with _his_ carton of ice-cream standing open on the coffee table.

She looks up guiltily. “Oops.”

“Well, as long as you save me some...” He breaks off as he peers into the carton and sees it empty.

“Sorry, this is the last spoonful.” She says mischievously, heaping it into her mouth.

Barba frowns, but he bends down, and in one swift movement, fuses his lips to hers. His tongue sweeps the seam of her lips, and easily gains entry into her mouth. Skilfully, he licks the remnants of the ice-cream in her mouth, savouring the sweetness (although he can’t really tell which is sweeter, the ice-cream, or Liv).

He lets the kiss linger for a few more moments before pulling back with a smirk. “Never underestimate my ability to get what I want, Lieutenant.”

She laughs, and pulls him down to her, her hands travelling up his torso under his shirt.

“So...do you want me, or ice-cream?”

 “I certainly hope that your question is rhetorical.” He answers, trailing his lips down her neck as she shivers with pleasure.

“Completely rhetorical.” She confirms, and kisses him like he had kissed her.


	19. 019: you are so loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _you are so loved_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 661 words  
> note: I stole the name Catalina from [barsonaddict](http://archiveofourown.org/users/barsonaddict/pseuds/barsonaddict%22), [grassysvu67](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grassysvu67/pseuds/grassysvu67%22) and oliviatennant. I can’t think of a name and decided to use one that has been around.

Barba never seems to get his turn, because Liv always wakes up before he does, and she usually already has Catalina in her arms even before his feet hits the floor. She usurps all of his paternal duties. And he understands, because he knows she never thought she’ll have one of her own, that she’ll ever get to experience all of it: pregnancy, childbirth, and all the late night feeding, cuddling and crying. She lives, and breathes for all of it.

But tonight is one of those rare nights. He hears Catalina crying, and he sees Liv stirring a little in her sleep, but she makes no move. Quietly, he sits up and slips his feet into his slippers, shuffling towards the other end of the room where Catalina squirms in her bassinet, all wrapped up snugly in a pink flowery swaddle given by Carisi ( _my sister swears by this material, it’s the best,_ Carisi had enthused, and he went on and on but Barba simply tuned out).

Barba gently scoops up his daughter – _his daughter_ , he keeps reminding himself, because he sometimes still finds himself in that state of disbelief where he couldn’t believe that Catalina is _his_ ( _theirs_ ).

“Are you hungry, carinõ?” He murmurs. “I think Mamì has some milk for you in the fridge, shall I warm it up for you?”

He takes Catalina out of the room, so Liv can continue catching up on her sleep, and heads towards the kitchen, pausing for a moment to check on Noah in his room. Noah is fast asleep, half his quilt draping on the floor, and Barba carefully tugs up the quilt with his one free hand, tucking his son in.

He’s becoming quite adept at doing things with one hand lately.

Walking into the kitchen, he pulls open the fridge door and retrieves a bottle of milk. He plugs in the bottle warmer, and then removes the warmed milk, testing a few drops on his hand. Satisfied with the temperature, he gently tips the bottle into Catalina’s mouth, and watches as the baby sucks contently.

“You’re lucky Papì is used to late nights and not sleeping, although usually I’ll be surrounded by case files, coffee and your Mamì yelling at me.”

After a while, Catalina finishes her feed and he sets the bottle down, patting her back until she lets out a soft burp. She settles down after that, content, waving a small hand as she looks at her father, wide eyed. She has his green eyes, but that expression in them – it’s all Liv.

Barba cradles his daughter, and starts to rock her to sleep gently, humming a Spanish lullaby from his childhood. There isn’t a lot from his childhood that he likes to remember, but his mother’s songs stayed with him. He sings to her softly, smiling as Catalina’s eyes close and she drifts off to sleep.

He brings Catalina back to their bedroom, nudging the door open with one foot. He kisses her, and carefully sets her down in the bassinet, and makes sure she’s tightly wrapped in her swaddle.

“ You are so loved, you know that?” He whispers. “There are so many people who love you already. Sleep tight, carinõ.”

Giving his daughter one last glance, Barba pads quietly to his side of the bed, and slips under the covers. Liv shifts, and turns, draping one arm around his waist as she snuggles up to him, resting her head on his chest.

“Everything good?” She murmurs.

He nods, pressing a kiss on top of her head. “It’s all good, Liv. Go back to sleep.”

“She’s okay?”

“She’s okay.” He affirms.

“You’ve got her. Of course she’s okay.” She stifles a yawn and burrows deeper into her husband’s chest, slipping her leg between his.

Barba wraps his arms around his wife, thinking how they’ve got him wrapped around their fingers - Liv, Noah and Catalina.

And he wouldn’t want it any other way.


	20. 020: close call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _close call_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]

It’s not like they want to keep it a secret on _purpose_. But the relationship is still so new and  every single thing seems to be an exciting discovery about each other (Liv likes to align her toothbrush and toothpaste side by side, Barba puts his together in a drinking glass, on the left side of the sink). And therefore they really don’t feel like sharing it with the rest of the world.

Unfortunately, they are also at that stage where it’s _very_ hard to keep their hands off each other, and that’s proving to be a challenge when they see each other all the time at work. They’d always managed though, being the professionals they are.

There had been a couple of close calls. Once, when Liv pulled her organiser out of Barba’s briefcase (they had woken up late and there was a mad dash to get to work where they just threw everything together) but that was easily explained by the way of Barba holding onto Liv’s organiser for her as they were getting their morning coffee.

Or the time where Carisi and Rollins strolled out of the courthouse to see Barba and Liv standing on the steps, with Barba leaning in towards their Lieutenant – almost like he was going to kiss her. But then they heard him say something incredibly snarky, so the kissing thing must’ve been an illusion.

But with that many close calls, there’s bound to be an eventual slip up, and it happens one fine day during a routine briefing about a case, when Liv absent-mindedly reaches out and adjusts Barba’s slightly crooked tie.  

There’s a silence as everyone stares at them, with Liv’s hand still on Barba’s tie. She quickly draws her hand back, flushing, as Rollins crows with laughter.

“I win, suckers!”


	21. 021: stupid plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _this is without a doubt the stupidest plan you ever had. of course i'm in_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 671 words  
> prompt from aquabella on tumblr; more prompts at my tumblr [here](http://notesfrome.tumblr.com/post/144179893729/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you)

“Seriously?” Barba stuffs his hand in his pockets and grimaces, glancing at the building. “How about…no?”

Laughing, Liv hooks her arm through his and tugs him forward. “Come on! It’ll be fun!”

“What’s not going to be fun is us tripping over each other’s feet and us having swollen toes at the end of it.” Barba’s feet remains firmly planted on the pavement.

“Dancing is an excellent form of exercise.” She persists. “Besides, I already signed us up for a block of ten lessons.”

He sighs; he knows he’s not winning this fight, no matter how unwilling he is to partake in this. “Liv, you don’t often have stupid ideas, so I’m going to say, this is without a doubt, the stupidest plan you ever had.”

He smiles wrly. “Of course I’m in.”

* * *

“ _Cuban Salsa_??? Liv, for fuck’s sake...” Barba looks around frantically; maybe he can still make his escape before...

“Rafi Barba! Language!”

He winces, and turns to see a face from his childhood, a slim, gray-haired woman, with her hair pulled back in a severe bun. “ _Hola, Tía Carla. ¿Cómo estás?_ ”

“Rafi, _mi hijo_.” She hugs him hard and kisses him on both cheeks. “So good of you to come and see your Tía Carla...or are you here to polish up those steps of yours?”

Liv watches the whole exchange with an amused look on her face. “ _Polish_ your steps, Raf?”

“You don’t want to know.” He mutters under his breath.

“Ah, and who is this lovely lady, Rafi?” The woman Barba calls Tía Carla turns her attention to Liv, her face curious.

“Tía Carla, this is Olivia Benson, my girlfriend. Liv, this is Tía Carla, my mother’s best friend.”

“ _Dios mio_ , Rafi! Finally, you have a girlfriend! Your mother must be very pleased! She tells me, _mi hijo_ , he is married to his job, and that is not good! He needs a woman, and...”

“Carla, it’s time to start the class.” A bespectacled woman taps Carla on the shoulder, stopping her stream of excited words, much to Barba’s relief.

As they take their starting position, Liv raises an eyebrow at Barba. “When do you plan on telling me that you actually _can_ dance?”

“I can’t. But Tía Carla makes me, just because she’s a salsa instructor and I’m her best friend’s...” he is interrupted by Carla, who grabs his arm.

“La señorita Benson, I will borrow your partner, yes? Rafi, you come up here and show the class!” She enthuses as Barba looks back towards Liv with an expression of complete horror.

Liv snickers quietly to herself, while a part of her sympathises with Barba, another part of her can’t wait for what is going to happen next.

The music blasts out from the speakers, and with a very reluctant face, Barba takes Carla’s hand, and he begins to move.

Liv’s jaw drops onto the floor.

Because Barba can dance. He not only _can dance_ , but he is fucking amazing. Swivelling and twisting his hips, and moving his feet in perfect rhythm to the music. He turns, and spins, and gyrates, and Carla is a good partner for him. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, he is mesmerising on the dance floor.

The song stops, and everyone claps as Barba scurries back to Liv’s side.

“Not bad, not bad at all, Rafi, but there is still room for improvement, and that’s what we are all here for. Okay, class, let’s assume position...”

“Raf...that was...wow.” Liv is aware that her mouth is probably still wide open from shock, but who would’ve thought that ADA Rafael Barba can _dance_?

He snorts. “Liv, as far as Cuban Salsa goes, I’m not considered good at all. Mediocre, that’s what I am.”

“Well, I think you are amazing.” She says firmly.

He flushes, and Liv thinks he looks absolutely adorable. Laughing, she leans forward and kisses him lightly on the lips. “Are there any other secrets I should know? Are you also a Broadway singer, perhaps?”

“Now that you mention it...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for butchering the Spanish language if I have used any words in the wrong context.


	22. 022: stop and feel the rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _we’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 465 words  
> prompt from svu-f1-love on tumblr; more prompts at my tumblr [here](http://notesfrome.tumblr.com/post/144675586274/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you) if you wish to request!

“Raf, can you please remember to take an umbrella with you when you leave?” Liv calls as she puts on her coat, rushing to get out of the apartment. Barba doesn’t have court until ten o’clock in the morning, so he is to drop Noah off at day care since she has an earlier start that morning.

“Yes, _mamì_ , I’ll remember.” Barba says teasingly as he comes out from the kitchen, where he was preparing Noah’s breakfast.

“I’ll see you at the courthouse at six later?”

He nods and Liv slips on her boots, and then she kisses him quickly before dashing out of the door.

* * *

Liv strolls into the courthouse, glancing at the darkening skies. She hopes they will be able to beat the rain, but since Barba has an umbrella, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem if they are not able to.

She sees him striding towards her, and waves. He greets her with a brief hug and she links her arm through his. “Ready to go? Lucy made a pasta bake for us, so we can have quiet night in with Noah.”

“That sounds brilliant.” He says, as they walk out of the courthouse, into a light drizzle. He stops, and grimaces. “Oops.”

She sighs, elbowing him, and not entirely in jest. “You forgot the umbrella, didn’t you?”

He looks a little sheepish. “Sorry.”

She shakes her head and gives him a little shove. “Start walking, Barba.”

* * *

The rain is really coming down now, and they’re getting thoroughly soaked with dozens other New Yorkers as they walk briskly towards home. Liv is getting to be more than just a little irritated when thunder rumbles along with the howling winds.

“Liv...wait. Let’s stop for a bit.” He tugs at her hand just as she is about to run into their building, to finally escape the rain.

She turns around, and glares at him. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm, and you want to stop and feel the rain?”

He grins. “Not so much of feeling the rain, but I just really want to do this.”

Stepping closer to her, he cups her face in his hands and kisses her, his mouth warm. She tastes coffee, rainwater and Barba, and if she can be honest, it’s a rather excellent combination.

He draws back, still encircling her within the circle of his arms as she shakes her head at him. “What, so you’re Ryan Gosling now?”

“Well, if I am Ryan Gosling, then I should be dragging you inside right now for some hot sex, so...”

Liv laughs, and leans in to kiss him quickly. “You wish.”

He tightens his hold on her as they hurry up the stairs and into the building. “Oh I do, Liv. I really, really do.”


	23. 023: pillow talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _pillow talk_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 820 words

Barba’s fingers are splayed out on her back, his index finger tapping out messages she can't decipher against her spine. He strokes the soft skin of her back as his fingers trail lower, drawing big, swooping curlicues, lazy vines overlapping one another, ending just above the tantalizing curve of her bottom.   
  
Liv hums a little, and stretches, taking his hand and encircling his arm around her bare waist. “Feels nice,” she murmurs.  
  
“Mhmmm,” he agrees, kissing the curve of her shoulder. “Now turn over so I can do the front.”  
  
She peers over her shoulder at him and raises an eyebrow. "I thought you said you’re done.”  
  
He huffs. “Not everything I do is about sex, Liv.”  
  
She reaches out and lightly brushes the side of his neck. “ _Really_.” She says and then she's drawing his face closer. She kisses him, her tongue sweeping against his bottom lip and he deepens the kiss, letting her dominate (for time being, he’ll get his turn). His arms tighten around her waist automatically and he pulls her flush against his body, the heat of her bare skin equal to his.

He always thinks it can't get any better, that one day, surely, this heady passion will simmer to a more grounded sort of love, but it hasn't happened. If anything, it seems like the heat and fervour just grows and increases with time. It's as if there's a steady charge of electricity between them always - one look at her and he's instantly attracted. He knows he can undo her with a touch, fingers digging into her hips when they’re alone, or when he’s kissing that spot on her neck just below her right ear. She returns the favour, just by the way she gasps his name into his ear, the way her clever fingers manipulate him to the point where he can barely remember his own name.  
  
She’s doing that now, her fingers enticing and teasing as she strokes him, as he licks her neck, his tongue drawing downwards towards her breasts, tasting the salt of her skin. She moans softly, and grinds against him, and then he is inside her, as they tangle under the sheets.

Afterwards, when they are truly sated, have cooled off and are in between consciousness and sleep, he asks her a question. “Did you think this could have happened when we first met?” 

She briefly opens her eyes and blinks hazily at him, then shuts them again. “Raf. I’m really sleepy and tired, couldn't this wait until tomorrow morning?”  
  
“Nope.” He catches her arm before she can smack him, and laces their fingers together. “I can do this all night long, you know.”  
  
She groans. “Well, if you're going to use  _threats_...”  
  
A pause, and he thinks she might have fallen asleep. Then, “No, I didn't think this would have happened when I first met you. Because we were going to be working with each other, and I was, still am, supremely professional. You’re the ADA, which makes you sort of my boss. Or not really. I don’t know, I’m really drained and I can’t think.”  
  
“You just have to throw in your professionalism there, don’t you? That doesn’t work, Liv, since you’re now sleeping with someone who is _sort of_ your boss.”

She shrugs. “I plead innocence. It was a situation beyond my control.”

He smirks, and presses a kiss to the back of her neck.  "Are you going to say that I seduced you now?"  
  
She pretends to think it over. "Okay, maybe it was more of a joint project."  
  
"Fifty-fifty?”

She yawns, her eyes slipping shut again. “Sounds about right.”

“That first meeting...I thought you were really rivetingly beautiful though.” He confesses, nuzzling her neck.  
  
She smiles at that. “I thought you were this preening jackass.”  
  
“ _What?_ ”

She snorts. “Oh, like you’re truly surprised. There you were, making cracks about me and Amanda, all that swagger and confidence. And okay, I admit, you were good looking, but you knew it. So little shame even then, Raf.”  
  
“I can't help it if God was a little more generous than he should have been.”  
  
She groans. “Oh, right. See, that’s that, right there.”  
  
Barba, fully awake now, presses further. “But you know....I think I always knew.”  
  
“How hot you were?”

“That kind of goes without saying but what I mean is...” his voice trails off as Liv turns to face him, her eyes open as she regards him with mild curiosity. Her eyes should be registered as deadly weapons, they're so beguiling, and he gets so flustered whenever she looks at him like that – and Rafael Barba isn’t supposed to get flustered, ever.

He regains his thoughts, and strokes her cheek lightly. “I knew that you were going to be someone special and important in my life.”  
  
Her smile is like a ray of light in the dark room. “Flatterer,” she whispers, and kisses him hard.


	24. 024: scarves and belts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _scarves and belts_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 761 words

“Your nose is red.” Barba pokes the tip of Liv’s nose gently, as she tightens her grip around his arm and leans in closer to his warmth.  

“I'm fine. You know how it always gets this way around winter.” She sneezes suddenly, her warm breath escaping in small puffs of white in the winter air.

“Did you forget your scarf again?” He eyes her neckline. The trench coat she’s wearing today doesn’t button up, leaving her throat exposed.

“Left it at the precinct. Not on purpose, though.” She sneezes again, and hides her face in his arm, sniffing slightly. “Are you going to be my hero and offer me your scarf?”

“I’m not wearing one.” He points out. He’s dressed for court (his usual work attire, really), tie knotted neatly as usual, and there is no need for a scarf.

She sighs dramatically. “I guess I need to look for a new hero.”

He frowns, and she laughs, tilting her head upwards and pressing a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, Raf, home is less than fifteen minutes away. I’ll be fine.”

 _This is joy_ , he thinks, as he traces the curve of her jaw with his thumb. She smiles up at him, her eyes twinkling. As always, they are an enigma, brown, rich, full of depth and expression. He thinks maybe it should bother him that sometimes he couldn’t really read what she’s thinking, but it doesn’t. Figuring her out is a process and a puzzle at times, but Barba loves challenges.

She’s not so hard to read right now, the way she presses herself against his side, trailing her hand down his arm to slip her fingers between his. He loves her little acts of affection in public. He wants her to want him as much as he wants her, to be the first thought in her morning, and the last dream before she drifts off. He doesn't care if that makes him possessive or needy, he simply wants it that way.

As they walk, she keeps sneezing intermittently. Sighing inwardly, he keeps an eye on his surroundings, and after a while, stops in front of a shop. “Liv, in here.” He says, tugging her inside.

She raises an eyebrow, but follows him. It’s a rather upmarket clothes shop, cashmere, silk and leather everywhere.

“Raf, what are we doing in here?”

“I’m getting you something.” He says, striding towards the selection of scarves. He studies the scarves in front of him, lips pursed, as she joins him, running her hand across the wool and cashmere.

“Raf, really? I have plenty of scarves, you know.”

“I consider it my responsibility to protect you from the cold. And besides...” He smirks at her, hand resting on her rear as he leans in to whisper in her ear. “...your exposed throat is very...distracting.” That much is true, combined with the elegant arch of her neck, it is indeed _very_ distracting and provocative.

She swats him on his arm, flushing slightly.

“Go have a look around.” He shoos her. “I want this to be a surprise.”

She shakes her head and laughs, wandering to the leather goods section. This almost child-like aspect of Barba is one that he _never_ shows anyone else, and she relishes in the fact that she is the one to see it, and to bring it out in him.

Barba takes his time in choosing a scarf, and as he steps up to the counter to pay, he notices that Liv is holding a small bag.

As they step out of the store and into the frigid winter air, he reaches into the carrier bag and pulls out a lovely wool and cashmere scarf in shades of cream and brown. “Now for the moment where I play the part of a chivalrous boyfriend.”

He drapes the scarf around her shoulder, and then winds it around her neck, and tucks the loose ends into her coat. She adjusts it a bit herself, revelling in the warmth it gives.

“There – now you’re all warm.”

“My hero. Thank you.” She tucks her arm into his, and kisses him briefly on the mouth. “And oh, this is for you.” She hands him the small bag, and he looks into it curiously.

“You got me a belt?”

“Yep.”

“But you know I don’t often wear belts.”

She grins, and whispers in his ear. “My intention is not for you to wear it. At least, not around your waist.”

It takes him less than ten seconds to _get it_.

“...Shall we take a cab home?”


	25. 025: slippers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _slippers_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> prompt from @thebarsondaily [tumblr]  
> note: something very short and silly and pointless

“Ugh.” Liv groans as she picks up her bedroom slippers and grimaces. The back of the slippers are all worn out and bits of cotton padding are poking through.

Barba looks at her curiously as he unbuttons his shirt, dropping it into the laundry hamper. “Wrecked another pair of slippers, Liv? That’s, what? The third pair in two months?”

“Shut up, Raf.” She wrinkles her nose and tosses her ruined slippers into the bin.

He snickers.  “Seriously, _mi amor_ , do you have spikes growing out of your heels or something?”

“I wish I do.” She retorts. “It’ll be very useful to kick you with when you steal the blankets in the middle of the night.”

He laughs and wraps his arms around her from behind. “On the contrary, we all know who the real blanket stealer in this relationship is.”

“Barba, is the couch looking particularly enticing to you tonight?”

* * *

Liv comes home from work the next day to find a huge, beribboned box on her side of the bed. Smiling to herself, she unties the ribbon, and lifts the lid to see a pair of leather bedroom slippers in a pale shade of tan.

“Slippers for my Cinderella.”

She turns to see him standing at the doorway. “Thank you for the present, Raf, but isn’t this a bit over-the-top for bedroom slippers?”

“You know I don’t do things by halves. Besides, maybe a good quality pair of slippers will hopefully manage to last you for more than a month.”

 “By the way, doesn’t Cinderella get glass slippers?”

“…you’re the budget version?”

She throws the gift ribbon at him, as he laughs and ducks out of the room.

Liv slips on her new slippers and stands up. She’s going to try her best, and take very good care of these.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based Liv's bedroom slippers wrecking ability on my fiancé. I'm pretty sure it's because he drags his heels when he walks. On average, he had to buy (cheap-ish) slippers about once every two months. I thought about buying him some expensive ones, but he wouldn't let me because he's afraid he'll wreck them anyway. 
> 
> (ranty author's explanation that no one cares to know)


	26. 026: distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _distance_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> prompt from @thebarsondaily [tumblr]

Liv gives a massive sneeze as Barba winces.

“Seriously, Raf, I’m contagious, so can you please just keep your distance?” She sniffs, grabbing the box of tissues on the bedside table and blowing her nose noisily.

Barba looks at her. He’s dressed for work, tie neatly knotted and vest on, but he’s hovering at the door, a worried expression on his face.

(If he has his own way, he would be hovering beside her, but she won’t allow it)

“I could just take a day off today...” he begins before Liv cuts him off. “No, you can’t. The Redmond trial starts tomorrow, so you still need to see Amanda and Carisi at the precinct for prep today.”

“But...”

“Raf, I have the flu. I’m not dying. Now, go. Noah’s waiting for you.”

* * *

She’s looking slightly better when he comes home that night, having managed to drag herself onto the couch, all wrapped in blankets and watching television.

Barba hangs up his coat and walks towards Liv, his arms outstretched before she stops him with a frown.

“Contagious,” she reminds him, before dissolving into another sneeze.

He sighs, and perches himself on the other arm of the couch, his brow wrinkled.

“Was Lucia okay with taking Noah for a couple of days?”

“Rhetorical question. Mamí is more than happy to have Noah with her.”

“Great, thanks...” She starts coughing before she could finish her sentence.

Sighing, he moves towards her swiftly and wraps his arms around her in a hug, rubbing her back gently. “Come on, now. I’m not going to keep some stupid distance from you. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I can’t comfort you when you’re sick?”

Liv sniffs, and rests her head on Barba’s shoulder.

“Well, don’t blame me if you catch the flu.”


	27. 027: attention and extremes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”_  
>  pairing: rafael barba & olivia benson  
> word count: 847 words   
> prompt from anonymous on my tumblr

“You look like shit.” Barba says bluntly as Liv walks up to him at the courthouse, her nose red and her eyes watery. She glares at him and emits a loud sneeze as he recoils and shifts himself and his coffee away from the vicinity of Liv’s germs.

“Thanks, Barba. That’s such a massive compliment, coming from you.” She says sarcastically.

“Are you sure you should be here?” He glances at her warily. “Somehow, I think a bed and some hot soup might be a better option.”

She shakes her head vehemently. “The jury is supposed to reach a verdict today. I want to see that son of a bitch go down.”

Barba sighs, falling in step behind Liv as she clambers up the steps, coughing as she walks.

* * *

She’s starting to feel really cold, as she buttons her coat and knots her scarf tighter around her neck, almost shivering as she watches the jury filing into court. Barba turns his head and meets her eye, and she is about to give him the customary nod when she dissolves into a fit of sneezes and coughs instead.

A flash of concern crosses his eyes but his attention is immediately drawn to the jury as the head juror stands up.

“On the charge of rape in the first degree, we find the defendant, John Kingston, guilty.”

Barba smiles in grim satisfaction as the judge thanks the jury for their service, remanding the rapist to Rikers pending sentencing. As the courtroom begins to clear, he collects his papers and legal pads and stuffs it into his briefcase. Snapping the clasps shut, he shoots a look towards the benches, not surprised to see Liv still sitting there, blowing her nose into a tissue.

Seeing him walking towards her, she stands up, sniffling hard. “Good job, Barba.”

“You’re going home.” He says firmly, gripping her upper arm and steering her out of the courtroom.

“No, I still need to get back to the precinct...”

“Liv. You’re going home.” He repeats authoritatively, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“God, you can be such a bossy jackass,” she mutters, and then she sneezes again.

* * *

Liv winces as the sunlight hits her eyes, but the sun’s rays are not warming; she still feels so cold. She fiddles with her scarf again, her head feeling exceedingly heavy. She feels kind of floaty, and quite unsteady. Is she actually stepping on solid ground? It doesn’t feel that way, and why is that pillar in front of her _moving_?

“Liv!” She thinks she heard Barba’s voice, but it’s all garbled and fuzzy, and she tries to speak, but her mouth is all cottony and dry, and the floor is _seriously_ spinning and tilting.

And then darkness hits her and she doesn’t know anything anymore.

* * *

Her head _really_ hurts.

She thinks she can hear a voice, but it’s all hazy and monotonous. She wills herself to concentrate and she can make out the words, but the voice is unfamiliar.

“Lieutenant Benson? Lieutenant Benson, can you hear me?”

“Yes...” She croaks, forcing her eyes open. It takes a while for her vision to focus, and she finds herself looking at an Asian man in a white coat, and a stethoscope around his neck.

“Lieutenant Benson, I’m Dr Martin Yong. You’re in the emergency room at the hospital. You fainted.”

“I did? What’s wrong with me?”

“We’re still waiting for the results of the blood work, but preliminarily, nothing serious. You definitely have a bad flu virus, and you’re a little dehydrated. I would suggest some proper rest once we discharge you, and you should be fine in a couple of days.”

“...Thank you.” She manages. “How did I get here, anyway?”

“Your colleague sent you in here.”

“My colleague?”

“Yes, a Mr. Rafael Barba. Speaking of him, I will let him know that you’re awake. Please take a rest, Lieutenant Benson. The nurse will be along to take your vitals later.”

Liv nods and struggles to sit up on the bed, still trying to get the bearings of her surroundings. Her head is still pounding, and she winces.

The curtain pulls back, and Barba is standing there, his face pale and his brow furrowed. He looks at her and sighs, nearing her and standing beside the bed.

“I’m okay. It’s just a bad flu coupled with exhaustion.” She mumbles, in reply to his unspoken question.

“Seriously, Liv. You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Really, Barba? You just have to...”

Her sentence is cut off as Barba pulls her to him in an abrupt move, almost crushing her in a hug.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He whispers, threading a hand through her hair.

Liv closes her eyes and smiles, her hands coming up to rest against his back. “Why Counselor...I didn’t realise you care this much,” she mutters, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

His arms around her tighten. “Well, start realising it now.”


	28. 028: umbrella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _umbrella_  
>  pairing: platonic (?) rafael barba & olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]

“What a delightful day to be visiting Rikers.” Barba comments, looking disdainfully at the gathering dark clouds as he yanks open the door to the passenger seat and climbs in.

Liv sighs and starts the engine, throwing him a sideway glance. “I get that Rikers isn’t your usual haunt, but let’s just get this over and done with, ok? I want to be off the road when the storm hits.”

“Fine by me,” he drawls, grabbing her phone and connecting it, scrolling through her playlist without asking her.

She raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, until he starts snickering. “Rihanna? Seriously?”

She grabs her phone from him and swipes to a jazz playlist, and puts it on, as he continues laughing.

“Barba, do you, perhaps, feel like taking a walk to Rikers?”

* * *

 

They are at Rikers longer than expected. The administrative staff took their own sweet time in processing their security clearance, and the convicted offender they needed to talk to was uncooperative, and his lawyer wasn’t much help at all. Still, they eventually managed to obtain the information they came for, but not after a few hours.

The rainstorm is at its full force when they are about to leave. Liv swears under her breath; she had forgotten to take an umbrella, as she didn’t expect the interrogation to take hours. Sighing, she buttons up her coat and prepares herself to be soaked by the rain.

Barba walks up beside her and opens up _his_ umbrella, grinning. “Come, Liv. You can stand under my umbrella.”

She groans and rolls her eyes, elbowing him in the ribs, but nevertheless, grateful for the shelter as they hurry towards her car.

The fact that Barba keeps a firm arm around her waist the entire time doesn’t escape her at all.


	29. 029: hug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; prompt: _hug_  
>  pairing: rafael barba & olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]

Sometimes, you just go through some days where it is absolutely _terrible._ It is one of those days for Barba, and as he stalks out of the courtroom, he can feel a migraine beginning to build, preparing to launch its wrath on him.

It was supposed to be an easy day in court, but Barba was caught off guard as Rita manipulated the victim into saying that she regretted coming forward as she is still in love with the accused, and that the sexual encounter _may had been_ consensual. He had demanded recess, and it was granted, but truth be told, he is _pissed_ beyond reason.

“Barba!” He hears Liv’s voice calling him as he walks. He stops, turning around, as she catches up to him. “Where are you going? Cassie’s in the meeting room, waiting for you.”

“Waiting to make more unexpected confessions to ruin the case?” He snaps, as Liv winces. Almost instantly, he feels contrite. It wasn’t the victim’s fault; that was unfair of him.

“Sorry,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “It’s been a shit morning.”

She pats his arm in a comforting manner. “I know, Raf. But look, it’s not over yet.”

He turns away, exhaling. “I’m not looking forward to the rest of it.”

She steps forward and slips her arms around his waist from behind, and he feels the weight of her against his back. She rests her chin on his shoulder and moves her arms up, locking him in her embrace.

He feels himself relaxing a little, as he smiles and rests his hand on top of hers. “Lieutenant, you do realise that we’re in a very public area of the courthouse...?”

She tightens her arms around him. “Well, I think you need a hug. So I’m giving you one.”


	30. 030: cartoons and conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _cartoons and conversations_  
>  pairing: rafael barba & olivia benson  
> word count: 645 words

Barba yawns as the credits start to roll, shifting his arm carefully so he doesn’t wake a sleeping Noah, all curled up on his lap. Liv is tucked into his arm on the other side, and she stretches out, reaching for the remote and turning off the television.

“I’m not sure that is a wholly appropriate cartoon for a 4-year-old.” Barba remarks. “It’s a bit adult, isn’t it, some parts of it?”

Liv laughs, as she gently brushes back Noah’s hair. “I can assure you, Raf, that he doesn’t understand most of it, and Djali the goat is probably the only reason we watched this cartoon tonight.”

Noah has been on a Disney binge ever since Barba watched The Lion King with him two weeks back, and they are gradually making it through the Disney catalogue at his insistence. Tonight’s cartoon is The Hunchback of Notre Dame, but Noah had promptly fallen asleep within the first half hour.

“I have to admit, though, I’ve always rooted for Quasimodo to get the girl.” Barba remarks, his arm sliding down from Liv’s shoulders to her waist.

“Oh? Never pegged you as a supporter for the underdog.” She rests her chin on his shoulder as she looks up at him.

“He’s the hero, Liv. The movie is named _after him_. If anything, Phoebus is the underdog.”

She wrinkles her nose a little. “That’s…a really weird sort of logic you have going on there.”

“Surely you do know that Phoebus is a womanising swine in the book,” he points out.

Liv stifles her own yawn. “Yes, but Phoebus in the cartoon is rather different, he’s loyal, smart and brave. Much like someone I know.” She teases, prodding Barba at his ribs.

Barba scoffs. “Excuse me, but I think I am smarter. _And_ better looking. _And_ I have better fashion sense.”

Liv groans and rolls out from under his arm. “Your humility is truly one of your best assets, Raf.”

He grins and carefully scoops Noah up, mindful not to wake the sleeping toddler. “We can continue the discussion on how good-looking I am later. Right now, I have to put this little guy to bed.”

“How did watching The Hunchback of Notre Dame result in a conversation about how hot you are?” Liv wonders out loud as she picks up Noah’s favourite stuffed bear, and walks with Barba to his bedroom.

“Because, inherently, that’s your favourite topic?” He says, in all wide-eyed innocence.

“You would wish so, but no.” She retorts, leaning against the door, watching as Barba carefully puts Noah down on the bed.

The little boy stirs, eyes half opening as Barba gently tucks the blankets around him. “Barba…song. Song _please_.”

“All right, _amigo_. How about a song from the cartoon just now? Would you like that?”

Noah nods, his eyes slipping close as Barba hums the song softly. “And out there, living in the sun…give me one day out there…”

Liv’s eyes are soft as she watches Barba singing her son to sleep. He’s fast asleep within the first few verses, and Barba stops singing and pecks him on the cheek, before placing his favourite bear beside him. He gets up quietly and tiptoes to the door.

He closes the door as Liv wraps her arms around his waist, kissing him briefly on the lips. “Thank you for putting him into bed. You know, I’ll never ceased to be amazed that you could actually _sing_ like that.”

He smirks. “Besides being hot with impeccable fashion sense, I am also a man of many talents.”

“…Are we back to that? Really?”

Barba kisses her again, longer this time. “You know you love me.”

“Unfortunately, that I do.” She sighs against his lips.

“ _Unfortunately_?” He pulls back and mocks glare at her.

“Don’t be an ass about semantics, Raf. Just take me to bed already.”

Barba gladly obliges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot bunny came about with Raùl singing Out There from The Hunchback of Notre Dame at the Nantucket Film Festival.


	31. 031: what if i tell you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _what if i tell you_  
>  pairing: rafael barba & olivia benson  
> word count: 776 words

“This is not working. All of these...it doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Barba pushes away the files in front of him in an abrupt gesture, and tosses his pen on the table. He stands up, and heads straight for the coffee machine at the other side of his office, pouring himself a cup. He sips at his coffee, staring out of the window with a huge frown on his face.

Liv sighs and shoves her chair back, standing up and joining him at the coffee machine, but she makes no move to pour herself a cup.

“Look, take a break and we’ll come back to this later,” she says, her tone even and calm, trying to pacify him.

“I’m fucking tired and looking and not finding anything. This whole case is a fucking nightmare, and you know it.” He barks at her, draining his coffee.

She looks at him, at the tense expression on his face, and the frown that has been very prominent in the last couple of weeks.

“I should’ve never taken this case.”

“I know we’ll find the link, we just need to look closer...”

“Oh, are you a clairvoyant now, Liv?” He says, and she flinches at his condescending tone.

He then realises what he had said, and he averts his eyes, but he’s not willing to verbalise his apology.

Liv scruntinises him, her brow furrowed. “Barba, what’s the matter with you?” She asks bluntly. “You’ve been so tetchy and irritable – even more so than usual. You know you’re not easy to get along with on a good day, but you’ve been near unbearable as of late.”

He looks at her carefully, and then he looks away, setting down his cup. “I’m just feeling stressed, that’s all,” he mumbles, staring down at his cup.

Liv shakes her head, not accepting his answer. “There have been more stressful situations than the one we’re going through now, and you dealt with those just fine. Come on, Barba. Talk to me. I’ve got your back, remember?”

He exhales noisily, and walks back towards his desk. “I swear, Liv, it’s the stress of the cases.” His tone is clearly signifying for her to drop the issue, but then again, she never listens to him anyway.

“Look, if you’re going to subject me to putting up with you behaving like a complete ass, then at least tell me why are you behaving like an ass.”

He nearly growls at that. “Look, Liv, just leave it, okay?””

She stares at him unflinchingly, her arms crossed.

“ _Fine_.” He snaps, placing his palms on his desk and leaning forward. “What if I tell you, that this is all because of you?”

“...What? What are you...”

He cuts her off, walking around his table so that he’s standing right in front of her. “What if I tell you, the reason that I’ve been so edgy is because I don’t know how much longer I can hold back on what I truly feel for you?”

He takes another step, and he’s now standing very close to her, invading her space. “What if I tell you, that the reason I’ve been such an ass to you is because that’s the only way I can stop myself from grabbing you and kissing you?”

She stares at him, speechless, backing up and feeling the edges of his desk pressing against her back. She would be lying if she claims that she didn’t see this coming – since day one, it has always been there, the spark, the _chemistry_ – but she placed importance in their working relationship, and subsequently their friendship. Therefore, no matter how tempting it is, she chooses to clamp down all her feelings, because it would complicate things.

But he’s standing in front of her now, his eyes a stormy dark green, mirroring her emotions, and she thinks that since he has thrown caution into the wind, maybe she should do so, too.

She leans forward, closer to him, and grabs his tie, pulling his head down towards hers. “And what if _I_ tell you, that if you’re not going to kiss me, then I’m just going to kiss you instead?”

Without waiting for his reply, she presses her mouth against his, lips gliding over his, tasting him, drinking him in. His fingers dig into her hips as he deepens the kiss, drawing her closer.

They part after a long moment, breathless. “Things would be so much easier if you had just done this from day one, three years ago,” she murmurs, her hand still wrapped around his tie.

Barba smirks and pulls her to him again. “Then let’s start making up for lost time.”


	32. 032: giving it a name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _giving it a name_  
>  pairing: dominick “sonny” carisi jr./amanda rollins  
> word count: 846 words

They bump into one of Carisi’s many aunts whilst on an evening stroll, with Jesse gurgling in her stroller, and Frannie tangling her leash around Carisi’s legs.

“Sonny!” The older woman embraces Carisi and lets out a torrent of enthusiastic Italian, which Amanda understands none of, except for “New York”, and then, as the woman looks at Jesse, “baby”.

Carisi looks slightly uncomfortable as his aunt approaches the stroller with bright, curious eyes. “Beautiful baby,” she says, directing her words at Amanda with a warm smile. “Sonny, is this your...?”

“My...” His voice trails off as he looks at Amanda, a slight expression of panic on his face.

Because he doesn’t know how to say it. Because they never talked about it, and the _last_ thing he wants to do is to fuck this up, because Amanda will run. She _will run_ , and she possibly would never look back.

As for Amanda, she feels herself tensing up. A part of her thinks she should be rescuing Carisi, but she doesn’t quite know how to finish that sentence.

“My...colleague.” He finishes lamely, eyes looking everywhere but his aunt, and Amanda. “Zia Gianna, this is my colleague, Amanda Rollins, and Amanda, this is my aunt, Gianna.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she managed, pasting a smile on her face as she watches the light go out of Gianna’s face, replaced by an expression of mild confusion. She smiles at Amanda, and then turns to Carisi, patting him on the face and speaking rapidly in Italian.

Carisi looks awkward as he answers his aunt in short sentences – also in Italian – and after a while, Gianna smiles at Amanda politely. “Very nice to meet you, Amanda. I will not disturb now, yes?”

She walks off after giving Carisi one last hug, and leaves them standing there, side by side, unable to look at each other.

“So,” Amanda says eventually, breaking the silence. “Your colleague?”

He grins weakly, running a hand through his hair, and without looking at her, he says, “Do you want to talk about this now? Here?”

“No,” she says quickly, and starts walking ahead, pushing Jesse in her stroller.

“Okay,” he mutters under his breath, and tugs Frannie’s leash, falling in step behind her. He won’t push her; he never does, after all.

* * *

She leans against him, legs tucked beneath her as she reaches for the popcorn on his lap, her gaze fixed on the television as Gordon Ramsay begins his earnest rant on Masterchef.

Carisi isn’t paying attention to the show, the earlier situation at the park is still playing in his mind, and he really wants to ask her about it. He thinks that maybe it’s time.

“Amanda,” he says, nudging her gently with his shoulder.

“What is it, Dominick?” She answers absently, eyes still trained on the television.

“Y’know, if the situation earlier this evening ever arises again…how do you want me to answer the question?”

She turns to look at him, her expression wary. “Are we talking about this now?”

“Yeah…yeah, I guess we are.”

She lets out her breath in a huff, and looks up, not saying anything. He waits for her response, his shoulders tensed, and then she looks at him and shrugs.

“Do we really have to give a name to this?”

“I kinda want to. Don’t you?”

_Yes_ , she thinks, _yes I do_. But she doesn’t know how to _say_ it, she’s never been good at this; emotions, feelings. Carisi is much better, he’ll always be better, so she’ll leave it to him.

“Well…call it whatever you want to, then,” she says, and grabs a handful of popcorn.

“Amanda, that’s not an answer, and…”

“Shhh, they’re about to announce the winner of the challenge.”

* * *

Amanda takes the coffees from the barista and smiles her thanks. As she heads back towards Carisi, she notices that he isn’t alone. There’s a redhead standing next to him, smiling and gesturing, her hand on his arm.

Amanda feels a spark of _something_ in her as she walks up to Carisi, interrupting the conversation.

“Hello,” she smiles pleasantly at the redhead as she hands Carisi his coffee. He gives a start, and turns to look at her, a slightly flustered expression on his face.

“Amanda, this is my ex-colleague, from Brooklyn, Beth. Beth, this is Amanda, my…” He stops, hesitating, and she takes over.

“Girlfriend,” she finishes, and holds out her hand. “Good to meet you.”

Beth shakes her hand, and after a few more pleasantries, she excuses herself, leaving them alone.

Carisi turns to her, and he grins, slipping his arm around her waist.

“Girlfriend, huh?”

“Well, you wanted to give this a name.”

“If I had known earlier that all I needed to do is to make you jealous…”

She scoffs. “Carisi, I wasn’t _jealous_.”

(She was, but she’ll never admit it.)

He dips his head and catches her lips with his, kissing her thoroughly. “Is this our first official kiss as a couple?” He asks teasingly.

“Don’t be a nerd, Dominick,” she rolls her eyes, but she kisses him again.


	33. 033: secret admirer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _secret admirer_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 789 words  
> note: you will notice that I am ignoring Tucker’s existence.

Liv pushes open the door to her office with an exasperated air, with Barba scowling behind her. “For the millionth time, Barba, it’s not…” Her voice trails off as her eyes land on a gorgeous of bouquet of roses, lying innocuously on her desk.

She blinks in surprise and walks over, picking up the bouquet. Barba’s gaze lands upon the flowers, and an unreadable expression flashes across his eyes,

“Wow. Roses. So, who’re they from?” He keeps his tone casual, off-handed.

She picks out the card nestling between two roses and a sprig of baby’s breath. The card simply reads “Olivia” and nothing else.

She puts down the roses, placing them at the side of her desk. “No idea. The card is not signed.”

He raises an eyebrow noncommittally. “Well, then. As I was saying…”

The flowers are forgotten momentarily as Barba and Liv resume their argument.

* * *

“All right, Amanda, Fin, you two go interview the prep’s roommate. Carisi, call TARU and check on the status of those phone records. Barba, do you think we have enough for the search warrant?”

He nods, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He turns to leave the squad room, and nearly bumped into the flower deliveryman, carrying a huge bouquet of roses and carnations.

“Sorry, buddy,” the man said apologetically, and looks around the squad room. “I have flowers for a Lieutenant Olivia Benson.”

Liv looks up from her file, slightly flustered. “That’s me.”

“Here you go…” He hands her the bouquet, and a handheld electronic device. “And sign here, please.”

She scrawls her signature quickly, as Carisi lets out a whistle from his desk. “Wooo hooo, Lieu! Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Liv shoots a look at Carisi as Amanda tosses a pen at him. He ducks, and picks up his phone. “TARU. Gotcha.”

She cradles the flowers and retrieves the card from the middle of the bouquet. Again, her name is printed there in cursive script, but that’s all there is to it.

“Another mystery bouquet?” Barba’s sardonic voice sounds out behind her, and she turns around to see him eyeing the card she’s holding.

“Evidently,” she says, setting them aside. It’s kind of nice to think that she has a secret admirer, she supposes, but in all honesty, she has little patience for cloak and dagger shows.

A strange expression flits across Barba’s face, and he looks poised to say something, but he changes his mind and turns away. “I’ll get you that warrant.”

* * *

Liv stares at yet another of bouquet of red roses on her desk. As expected, the card is unsigned, only her name printed upon it is of any indication that the flowers are indeed for her.

It’s flattering, but it’s also getting to be slightly annoying.

“Liv, about the trial tomorrow…” Barba stalks into her office, and stops short as he spots the roses. “Again?”

 “I guess someone likes me?” She grins, and picks up a folder from her desk, preparing to discuss the trial with him.

But he’s still looking at the roses, his eyebrows drawn together. “Aren’t you even remotely curious about the identity of the sender?”

“Not really,” she says, flipping through the documents she’s holding.

“Liv, seriously. What if it’s a stalker or something?”

She sputters with laughter. “A stalker? Barba, honestly, I doubt it.”

Barba glowers at the flowers, as if this is all their fault. “I don’t like this.”

She snickers. “Barba, if I don’t know any better, I’d say it sounded like as if you’re jealous.”

He trains his eyes on hers, and takes a step towards her, and suddenly she’s aware that he’s actually standing very close to her. The intensity she sees in his eyes is almost unnerving, but somehow, it sends a thrill up her spine.

“What if I _am_ jealous?” He asks, his voice low.

“What…” she begins, but the rest of her words are lost as he cups her face with his hands, and his mouth descends upon hers.

And it feels so good, so _right_ , that the only natural thing for her to do is to kiss him back.

* * *

Carisi high-fives Amanda as they watch Liv and Barba leaving the precinct, not missing the fact that Barba’s arm is wrapped tightly around their commander’s waist.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t think your stupid idea would ever work.”

“I told you, Barba just needed that push,” he says, with an air of self-satisfaction.

“He might just push you off a cliff if he finds out this is all your doing,” she points out.

“What? I got him Lieu, if anything, he should thanking me.”

Amanda snorts. “Don’t hold your breath, Carisi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to note that a huge part of the plot bunny regarding a scheming Carisi and Rollins is actually inspired by a drabble written by @barsonaddict.


	34. 034: to introduce you as

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; to introduce you as  
> pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 782 words

“Rafael!”

Barba looks up from his phone to see a familiar face descending upon him. Sighing inwardly, he locks his phone and slips it into his pocket.

The man stops in front of him, and gives him a hug, which Barba reluctantly accepts. “Tío Manuel, _cómo estás_?” He asks respectfully.

“ _Estoy bien_ , Rafael. I have not seen you for a long time. You never come back for a visit.” Manuel answers in Spanish, looking at him reprovingly.

“ _Lo siento_ , Tío, but I have been very busy. I hope…” He breaks off as Liv joins him, holding two cups of coffee. He takes his coffee from her and sips it, feeling like he needs the caffeine to deal with his uncle. Manuel, meanwhile, raises an eyebrow at Barba, waiting to be introduced.

“Liv, this is my uncle Manuel. Tío Manuel, this is Olivia Benson, my…” he hesitates for a moment, suddenly realising that this is sort of foreign territory. He and Liv have been together for quite a while now, but in that time, they had never chanced upon any situation that required for one to introduce the other as a significant other.

“My girlfriend.” He finishes firmly, as Liv holds out her hand in a friendly manner.

“Pleased to meet you.”

Manuel shakes Liv’s hand but his eyes are on Barba. “Girlfriend?” He booms. “Rafael, really, are you not a little too old to be playing this…”

Barba immediately cuts his uncle off. “Tío Manuel, I’m sure you have a lot of matters to attend to so I won’t keep you.”

He shoots his nephew a disapproving look, but much to Barba’s relief, he backs off, waving and melting into the morning crowd.

“My father’s younger brother,” Barba mutters, finishing his coffee in two gulps. “And he can be every bit a bully as my father was.”

Liv squeezes his arm briefly. “Let it go, Raf.”

* * *

“Noah’s asleep,” he announces, entering the living room, and settling himself on the couch beside her. She immediately shifts herself closer to him, slipping her arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder.

“You know, I’m just thinking…” he muses. “I know my uncle was being an ass, but it _is_ a little funny to be calling you my girlfriend. I mean, you’re not exactly a _girl_ …”

She looks up at him, and smacks his arm. “Rafael Barba, are you calling me old?”

He shakes his head, laughing. “No, I’m not, because that would make _me_ old as well.”

“What’s wrong with ‘girlfriend’? It’s just a term,” she shrugs.

“It just makes me feel like as if we’re teenagers in some adolescent relationship, that’s all. And we’re definitely _not_ that.”

“I’m curious to know how you plan to introduce me to strangers in the future, then.”

“How about…” he purses his lips, thinking. “Partner?”

She winces. “No, that term holds an entirely different meaning for me, and you know it.”

“Significant other?”

“What a mouthful.”

“Better half.”

“Raf, seriously?”

“My woman, then,” he smirks.

“Sure, but only if I can introduce you as my _caveman_.”

“Well, then,” he picks up her left hand, and trace her knuckles with his thumb. “How about…my wife?”

Liv’s heart nearly stops, as she looks at him, but she sees no trace of humour in his eyes, only seriousness, a little apprehension, and a lot of love. She feels him slipping something onto the fourth finger of her left hand, and she looks down to see a glittering, solitaire diamond, nestled on a platinum band adorning her hand.

“Raf…” Her throat catches, and closes.

“Liv,” he begins, holding her hands. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and planning this. I had a big speech prepared, and everything.”

“But then I realised I don’t really need a fancy speech, because it’s really very simple. Olivia Benson, I love you. I love you more than I ever thought it’s possible for me to love someone. And I love Noah, and I want nothing more than to be able to love and to take care of you both.”

He takes a deep breath, and then rests his forehead against hers. “Marry me, Liv.”

She laughs, tears spilling over as she tightens her hands around his. “That’s actually _quite_ an impressive speech.”

He waits, his shoulders tensed, and she realises that he’s _nervous_ , and she couldn’t imagine why. As if she would say no. As if she would say anything else but yes.

“Yes,” she says, and she’s laughing and crying at the same time. “Yes.”

Barba leans in and kisses her, long and sweet, and Liv wraps her arms around him, feeling like forever is just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May write another longer Barson proposal one-shot, once I work out the kinks in my original plan. This is actually some sort of spin off, because I wasn't getting anywhere with what I really want to write.


	35. 035: family day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _family day_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 643 words

“Barba, I have a huge favour to ask from you.”

He eyes her warily, taking a huge sip of the coffee she bought him. “Hmmph. I should’ve this cup of coffee would come with strings attached. What’s the favour, Liv?”

“Well, you see…Noah’s daycare is organising a family event tomorrow…and he asked me to give you this,” she says, handing him a card.

Barba raises an eyebrow and takes the card from her. It’s a standard invitation card, decorated with pictures of animals, inviting parents and other family members to attend Family Day at Little Leaf Daycare. At the top of the card, the words “BarBA” are printed in green crayon.

“Huh,” he says, flipping the card between his fingers, more than just a little surprised at the invitation. It’s true that he’s a lot more at ease with the little boy compared to the past – in fact, Barba rather enjoys the time he gets to spend with Noah whenever he is at Liv’s, prepping for a case. He’s even taken to buying children’s books and reading to him at times.

But the fact that Noah actually thought of him with regards to family day...it feels kind of nice. A bit strange, yes, but nice.

“It will mean a lot to Noah if you come.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I possibly refuse?”

* * *

Liv couldn’t help but laugh at she looks at Barba. The expression of mild terror on his face as toddlers of all ages swarm and scream around him is hilarious.

“You know, I’m really starting to regret…” he’s cut off by Noah hurling himself onto him, wrapping his little arms around his legs.

“Barba!” Noah cheers, clinging onto him.

Barba’s face relaxes almost immediately as he bends down, ruffling his hair. “Hola, amigo.”

“Barba, Mommy, play game!” Noah grabs Barba’s hand and Liv’s hand and drags them around the classroom, leading them to a corner where a ringtoss is set up, along with other carnival games.

“Well, Barba, are you up for the challenge?” Liv asks, taking a ring from the basket.

He smiles smugly, leaning down and picking up Noah. “What do you say, Noah? Do you think we can beat Mommy?”

“Yes!” Noah answers loudly.

He laughs, grabbing a ring and handing it to Noah. “Well, Liv. Game on.”

* * *

Liv zips up Noah’s backpack, slinging it onto her shoulder, and hefting a sleepy Noah into her arms. He’s clutching the toy zebra that Barba had won for him.

“Here, let me,” Barba reaches out and takes Noah from Liv, “You can take his backpack, I’ll carry him.”

“Thanks for coming today, Barba,” she says, pushing open the door of the daycare centre as they both exit together. He shifts Noah in his arms, holding him securely with one arm.

“I had fun,” he says, his tone nonchalant, but he truly means it. He _did_ have fun. He won’t deny that he was dreading it initially, but as the day progressed, as he played games with Noah, finger painted with him and admired his art, he genuinely was enjoying himself.

And even more so with Liv right beside them.

“Well, it’s been quite a day, he would go straight to bed once we get home. What do you say we order some pizza for dinner after that?” Liv suggests casually.

He turns to look at her, and the expression in her eyes belies the casual tone of her words. She’s asking a much bigger question, and he knows it.

Somehow, he’s not surprised. They’re always going to get here someday. It’s always been a matter of time.

A slow smile spreads across his face, as he reaches out and takes her hand, lacing her fingers with his. “I’d say that sounds pretty damn good.”

She smiles back, tightening her hold on his hand.


	36. 036: kinda a date night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _kinda a first date_  
>  pairing: dominick “sonny” carisi jr./amanda rollins  
> word count: 672 words

Carisi fiddles with the cuffs of his shirt as he stands in front of Amanda’s apartment, letting his breath out in a huff. He thought about getting flowers, but he then decided that it was too cliché (and nerdy).

He’s feeling kind of nervous, and it’s ridiculous, really.

He knocks on the door, three sharp raps, and she opens the door immediately, almost as if she’s been waiting for him all this while. She’s all dressed up, in a light blue dress, her hair pinned up in a chignon, her make up only slightly heavier than what she usually wears for work.

“Hey,” she says, smiling at him. “I’d ask you to come in and say good night to Jesse, but she’s already asleep. Let me shoot off a few things to my sitter, and then we can go.”

He nods and walks into the apartment, waiting by the door as Amanda reappears a few minutes later with her purse and a coat, and they head out of the door together.

* * *

Carisi chooses an Italian restaurant for dinner (of course he would), that’s homey in its food but elegant in its décor.

They pick two starters to share, and he decides on the night’s special for himself, whilst she opts for the vegetarian lasagne.

The wine arrives and he feels himself relaxing a little. Amanda, meanwhile, looks totally at ease, but then again, he didn’t think she’d be feeling like how he’s feeling.  Amanda takes things as they come, she doesn’t tend to over think things, like he does, all the time.

The conversation between them is comfortable, light and easy.  It isn’t too different from the way it usually is, when they sit in front of her television eating whatever Carisi has whip up for dinner. She touches his hand intermittently as she talks, and spears his pasta with her fork without asking. She also finishes half of his dessert in addition to her own, and all of that just seems like the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

Carisi checks on Jesse as Amanda pays the sitter and sees her off. Jesse is comfortably asleep, looking adorable in her slumber, and he can’t help but peck her on the cheek, smoothing back her downy hair.

He wanders out to the living room to see that Amanda settling herself on the couch, her shoes off and her hair loose of its chignon. He notices that she has poured him a glass of wine and it’s sitting on the kitchen counter, so he picks it up and joins her on the couch, loosening his tie.

She reclines against him almost automatically, resting her head on his shoulder.

“That was nice,” she murmurs. “We should do it more often.”

“You know, Amanda...that was kinda like our first date, wasn’t it?”

She raises her head and looks him, her nose wrinkled in confusion. “What are you talking about? That’s hardly our first date – we’ve had dinner together heaps of times.”

“Well, yeah, but this was the first time I took you out properly, just the two of us, and you’re all dressed up, and...” his voice trails off at the bemused expression on her face.

“If it means that much to you, I can dress up more around here,” she teases.  

“That’s...not what I meant...I mean, oh never mind. Forget it,” he says, waving his left hand dismissively. He’s starting to feel a little silly; obviously Amanda doesn’t see the significance.

She grins and rests her palm on his face. “You’re such a dork sometimes, Dominick,” she says, and then she tilts her head upwards and kisses him.

“So, is the obligatory post-date make out session?” she asks him, when they parted.

“You can call it whatever you want, as long as we get to make out,” he smirks.

She laughs, her thumb stroking the back of his neck. “I’m looking forward to our second date, then.”

“Well, the first one isn’t _quite_ over yet,” he says, and he kisses her again.


	37. 037: nocturne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _nocturne_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 1230 words

“Make yourself at home, Liv,” Barba says, hanging up his coat and waving a hand towards the kitchen. “There’s carbenet in the kitchen, wineglass in the cupboard – you know where everything is. I’m just going to get the case files, and then we can go through everything.”

Liv nods, draping her own coat on Barba’s coat rack, walking to the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of wine. She sits down at the plush leather couch, grabbing her own files. She frowns at the numerous piles of papers and folders on Barba’s coffee table – they are all piled neatly, of course, but undeniably taking up the space they will need to work with.

Clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, Liv starts moving the piles of documents and folders to the side table near his bookshelf. As she puts away the last stack, she accidentally knocks her hip against the table, and that causes a mini avalanche of papers.

Cursing under her breath, Liv picks everything up, piling them neatly, hoping she hasn’t messed up anything – she’ll never hear the end of it from Barba. As she puts the last lot of papers and books into a stack, her eyes land on a thin book, at the very top of the pile.

It’s a musical score, and it looks worn and well-used.

“Chopin’s Nocturne in E-flat Major,” she reads, and she flips through the score. She’s not musical, not by any means, but if she has to hazard a guess, it looks like a score for a piano solo.

“Liv? What are you doing?”

She turns around, the score still in her hands, to see Barba looking at her, holding a ring folder, an eyebrow raised.

“Barba, do you mean to tell me that you can play the piano?” She teases, not really expecting him to answer in the affirmative. She knows that he can be really capricious at times, picking up random books and knick knacks that interests him.

To her surprise, a faint blush rises in Barba’s face as he takes two steps forward and grabs the score from her, slipping it into the ring folder he’s holding. “Shall we?” He asks, gesturing towards his living room.

“Wait, you mean you _can_ play?” She hurries after him, her surprise evident. She would never have pegged for the ADA to be musical, in this sense.

Barba shrugs. “It’s neither here nor there. I gained a passing interest when I was in Harvard, so I took a few lessons. I know how to play a few simple pieces, and that’s it.”

Despite his casual manner, Liv can see his blush deepening and she’s intrigued. She can’t recall ever seeing Barba blush, and somehow he suddenly looks really young and endearing. Grinning, she leans forward and plucks the score from his folder. “I may be wrong – although I don’t think I am – but this definitely doesn’t look simple.”

He frowns. “Give it a rest, Liv, and let’s get to work, shall we?”

She looks around his apartment. “I have a feeling you’re hiding a piano in here. Come on, Barba, entertain me.”

“No,” he says, and he inwardly winces at the petulant tone in his voice.

She laughs and grabs his arm, pulling him up to a standing position. “You know I won’t leave it alone – I can be _very_ persuasive, too.”

“ _Fine_ ,” he says, albeit snappily.

He strides to the room besides his bedroom, and pushes it open, revealing a sturdy oak desk, more book shelves, and an upright piano at the corner of the room. He rolls up his sleeves, carefully lifting the cover of the piano.

As he settles himself on the piano bench, Liv hands him the score. He looks at it, and shakes his head. “I can do without the score for this one.”

She smirks. “If you’re trying to impress me, Counselor, it’s working.”

He smirks back, placing his hands on the keys, and for the first time, she notices how long and slim his fingers actually are.

He begins playing, his fingers dancing over the ivory and black keys. He closes his eyes momentarily as he feels the music beneath his fingertips. Chopin is his favourite composer, always has been, and there’s something about his compositions that just manages to capture his feelings, his emotions. A smile forms on his face as he concentrates on the notes and chords of Chopin’s melody, the music taking over his senses, as it always does.

Liv’s jaw is practically dropping to the ground. She has expected a fairly competent and solid piece of music (she cannot imagine Barba being bad at anything) but she certainly did not expect _this_.

Barba’s fingers, fluid and dextrous, flies effortlessly over the keys, making the piano sing. There’s an expression on his face that she has never seen before, a dreamy, soft expression that instantly lets her know that he’s lost in the world he has created.

It’s like she’s seeing him again for the first time, the man at the piano seems worlds apart from the brash, sarcastic Barba that she knows. And yet, it’s somehow reconcilable, and it makes sense.

The last strains of the nocturne fades away, and Barba lifts his hands from the piano, smiling to himself. He turns around, and sees her, still staring at him, open-mouthed.

He immediately snaps out of his reverie, and stands up abruptly, closing the cover of his piano. He gives a cough, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. He’s just revealed a very private part of himself, and to be frank, things are more than just a little bit awkward right now, especially with Liv still staring at him as if he has grown an extra head.

“Barba…I mean, who would’ve thought…I mean… _wow_.” She’s aware that she sounds like a babbling idiot but she’s still in a state of disbelief. “Seriously, Barba, that was fucking amazing.”

He shrugs, and motions towards the door, walking out of the room. “I believe one song was our agreement, now can we get back to work?”

As he closes the door, she leans against the wall and grins at him. “I know who’s going to take centre stage at the next benefit the NYPD holds.”

“Oh no, you don’t. This is not for common knowledge, Benson.”

“But do tell, are you also secretly a violinist? A tango dancer? A Broadway singer?” She smiles mischievously. “Any other surprises you want to reveal today?”

Barba looks at her, her eyes twinkling in mirth, and maybe it’s the music, maybe he still hasn’t come out of that world, or maybe he’s just let her seen a side of him that he has never shown anyone (and he doesn’t think he would ever show anyone, before today), but he’s suddenly overcome by the strongest urge to kiss her.

He leans forward, and smirks at her. “Maybe _this_ will be a surprise.” Before she can speak, he angles his head, and kisses her squarely on the mouth. There’s only a split second of hesitation before she responds, her hands encircling his neck to pull him closer.

When they eventually part, breathless, she smiles at him. “I think your piano playing abilities is the bigger surprise,” she says, fingers stroking the nape of his neck.

“Oh, _really_?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Really,” she affirms, and kisses him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It makes sense in my head that Barba bangs out Fantasia Impromptu on the piano whenever he’s frustrated with a case. 
> 
> If anyone’s curious, here’s the Chopin Nocturne that sparked this drabble: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZUw78FXpG4


	38. 038: over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _over_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 832 words

Liv didn’t know how they have come to arrive at this point.

After all, they were friends first. He was her best friend. And together, they had climbed so many mountains, weathered so many storms that it seemed almost inconceivable that it was all coming to an end. This was really one relationship that she had thought would last, and last forever.

But perhaps it was naïve of her to think that they would last forever. Nothing does. Not even them.

She couldn’t pin point when it all started to go to hell. It was all the little things, she supposed.

He hated that she still involved herself in undercover work; he hated the way she kept throwing herself into the line of fire. He couldn’t see that she weighed out every decision she made before she made it. She had Noah to think of; she was very clear of that. But he didn’t think so.

Rash. Impulsive. Selfish. These were words that had been coming from him with alarming regularity.

She hated the long hours he put into the District Attorney’s office, working on cases that were not even his prime responsibility; she hated the fact that he had started attending functions and parties frequently. He had political ambitions, she understood that, but it was overtaking him, it was consuming him.

He was never going to put her first. He was never going to put _them_ first.

It was time to cut her losses early, and leave.

She told him that she was ending it, her tone calm, steady, matter-of-fact. What scared her the most was the utter lack of emotion she felt when she listed out the reasons as to why they were not working anymore. She listed the reasons as she would with a case, short, succinct, and if she had written them, it would all be in bullet points.

He listened to her, his face carefully blank, betraying none of what he was thinking or feeling. And she found that she couldn’t read him anymore, she had no idea what was going through his mind.

Once upon a time, they only needed _one_ glance at one another to deduce each other’s feelings and thoughts perfectly.

But that was all in the past.

She finished talking, and waited. He said nothing, but merely looked at her, his eyes shifting into a dark green.

A part of her wanted him to argue. To scream at her, to tell her that this was all _her_ fault, it was all her, he was not to blame. She wants him to fight, to cry, to show _something_ , because she was unable to.

The silence stretched between them as they looked at each other, challenging each other, almost.  She was not backing down, and neither was he.

But he chose not to play this game anymore, not to drag this on unnecessarily, as he looked away first.

“I’ll be over later to pick up some of my things. Please make sure Noah is in bed when I do. He doesn’t need to see me leave,” he said, his tone cool.

Finally, she felt _something_ ; fury sparked in her to hear him speak of their (no, hers, _hers_ alone now) son in that detached tone. But she said nothing; she glared at him, willing herself not say things that she would never be able to take back.

“Fine,” she said at last.

He stood up, collecting his suit jacket, his coat, and his briefcase, and walked towards the door.

“Is that all you have to say?” she asked, standing up, fingers gripping the edge of her desk, her knuckles white.

He stilled, and then he turned back to look at her. She saw something flickered in his eyes – regret? Sorrow? Pain? – but it was gone before she could truly decipher it.

“There’s nothing else to say, Liv, nothing at all,” he said quietly. “There hasn’t been anything to say for months.”

She felt the ice around her heart thawing, perceptibly, but it wasn’t enough. Still, she found herself calling out to him. “Rafael.”

This time, she saw it, raw, unadulterated pain, etched upon his face, burning in his eyes, but it was of no use, it was all for nothing, and she knew it.

“Don’t, Liv. Just…don’t.”

And he practically ran out of her office, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

It was a week later when they saw each other again. She was heading into the courtroom, and he was walking out of it.

Their eyes locked onto each other, as they continued walking, neither of them breaking their stride. They walked past each other, shoulders brushing, and for a moment, her step faltered.

She looked back, and she saw that he had stopped walking too, his shoulders tensed.

 _I miss you. I think I still love you_.

_And I think I do, too._

But it was all too late, and they were too broken.

And so she was gone, and he was, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame @untapdtreasure’s latest and wonderfully painful Barson fic for this one. And since that piece of writing was said to be the fault of @barsonaddict, I guess by extension, I can blame her, too. 
> 
> Fix it plot bunny is very much alive, though.


	39. 039: full circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _full circle_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 1200 words  
> note: Drabble fix-it for the last chapter. Barba and Liv, post breakup, in 100 words through the months.

_i. the first month_

Liv was the one who asked Barba to leave, asked him to walk out of her life. And he did, banging the office door behind him.

Somehow, it had all become too much – her work commitments, his political ambitions, their inability to _understand_ each other. They stopped talking, they stopped communicating and arguments, fights and feelings of resentment were all that was left.  
  
She felt it was not worth trying anymore. She was tired, really tired.  
  
So she asked him to go, and he left her.  

They were supposed to last forever.

But somethings were just not meant to be.   


* * *

_ii. the second month_  
  
Barba looked at Liv’s clothes in his wardrobe, her shampoo and make up in his bathroom, her books on his desk. He was about to sort through her belongings, but he was struggling, because erasing traces of her seemed like such an act of finality.

But he knew he had to do it, because it then meant that he could start getting over her.

So he pushed through, folding her clothes, stacking her books, and packing everything neatly into two boxes.

He also took down their photographs.

He was beginning to accept that perhaps they were not meant to be.  


* * *

_ii. the third month_  
  
Liv threw herself whole-heartedly into her work, and into Noah - the two most important things in her life now that Barba was gone.  But it was almost impossible not to be reminded of him, of _them,_ when they worked together, day in, day out.

He still saw Noah, they both agreed that Noah should still see him. They had never even been married (or close to it) and yet, they were co-parenting like a divorced couple.

Irony was a bitch.  
  
It still hurt, so much, when she thought about the fact that they just were not meant to be.   


* * *

_iv. the fourth month_  
  
Things at work were gradually going back to some semblance of normalcy – like the way it used to be - and his heart was constricting just a little bit less with each passing day.

And they were beginning to have semi-civil conversations outside of work.

Of course, she didn’t call him Rafael (or Raf, or Rafi) anymore – she called him Barba.

It was too impersonal for him to call her Benson – so Lieutenant was what he used when he needed to address her.

He resisted the urge to call her –  _Olivia, Liv_  - because they were not meant to be.  


* * *

_v. the fifth month_  
  
She was on her way to meet him in court, when she stopped by her usual coffee van just outside the courthouse. She bought her coffee, and on a whim, she ordered another coffee – a double strength long black.

She walked into the courtroom to see him already there, arranging his documents on the table. Walking up to him, she handed him his coffee and he looked at it for a moment, before accepting it.

“Thanks,” he said, flashing her a brief smile, and for a moment, she missed him, missed _this_ , even though they were not meant to be.

* * *

_vi. the sixth month_

It was one of those cases that required them to go over everything with a fine-toothed comb, and it was already late when they eventually finished.

As she packed up, he bit his lip, contemplating, and then his words came out in a rush. “Do you want to grab a quick dinner?”

She looked surprised, but she nodded.

They settled for a casual dinner, and for the first time in months, the conversation was easy and relaxed.

She didn’t call him Rafael, but he called her Olivia.

They could still be friends, even if they were not meant to be.   


* * *

_vii. the seventh month_  
  
It was not hurting as much as it used to anymore, for both of them.

They were seeing more of each other recently, perhaps more than they should. But it just felt  _right_ to be together. They were friends first. He was her best friend.

And then there was Noah. It was Noah who insisted that Barba watched Finding Nemo with them. Liv shrugged and made space for him on the couch.

But he was tired, and then he fell asleep on her shoulder.

She let him.

It did not seem to matter that they were not meant to be.  


* * *

_viii. the eighth month_  
  
“Rafi, you still have feelings for her,” Lucia said.   
  
He shrugged, not looking at her. “It was two years, Mamì. You can’t expect that to disappear overnight. But it’s okay, I know what I’m doing.”   
  
She shook her head. “Be true to yourself, mijo.”  
  
Barba chose to ignore his mother, but he  _knew_.   
  
~  
  
“You still have feelings for him,” Fin said.  
  
She frowned at him. “Fin, really? You’re going talk to me about this?”  
  
“Hell no, but you gotta sort your shit out, Liv.”

She scoffed, but she _knew_.  
  
~  
  
What if, just _maybe_ , they were meant to be?  


* * *

_ix. the ninth month_

They took Noah to the carnival together, and they went on rides. Liv rode the merry-go-ground with Noah while Barba snapped photos. He then accompanied Noah on a haunted house ride while she waited for them.

They played carnival games and Barba won a giant stuffed panda for Noah. They ate candy floss and ice-cream cones.

As they were walking together, Noah between them, holding each of their hands, an elderly couple passed by.

“Beautiful family,” they said, and smiled at them.

He waited for her to correct the couple, but she didn’t.

Because maybe they were meant to be.  


* * *

_x. the tenth month_  
  
She was pissed at his refusal to issue a warrant, glaring at him as she paced around his office.

“Come back to me when you have more. Then perhaps we can talk,” he says.

“Barba, you are _such_ a jackass,” she growls, fire in her eyes as he smirks at her.

This was how they used to be, he thought, before everything became too much. Without allowing himself second thoughts, he grabbed her shoulders, and kissed her,  _really_ kissed her. 

And she kissed him back just as fiercely, because she was starting to believe that they were meant to be.  


* * *

_xi. the eleventh month_  
  
They were starting over, and given how it had ended in the first place, and some may say it was too soon, and it may be too much.   
  
Maybe they were crazy. Maybe it _was_ too soon. But they were sure that they were not making a mistake, and it would not be too much.  
  
Holding her hand seemed right. Kissing him seemed right. Being together, with Noah, seemed right. Mistakes would not seem this right.  
  
Maybe they should not have been apart in the first place.  
  
It was always worth it, worth trying, because they were meant to be.  


* * *

_xii. the twelfth month_  
  
She folded his Harvard sweatshirt into her bottom drawer, as he dropped two sets of keys onto the night table, and straightened a photograph of them on top of her dresser.   
  
Turning to each other, they smiled as he held out his arms, and she let himself into his warm, comforting embrace, breathing in his scent, and she felt like that was where she belonged.   
  
“I love you,” he told her, because she needed to know.   
  
“I love you,” she told him, because that was the truth.   
  
Of course they were meant to be.   
  
They were always meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also wrote a longer fix-it fic for the owwie of the drabble before this one, and that's titled [all our tomorrows](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8022130).


	40. 040: pause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _pause_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: weekly prompt from @thebarsondaily on tumblr

Barba sets a glass of wine on the coffee table in front of Liv, and takes his place next to her on the couch. She reaches for the wine with her right hand, while she stuffs some popcorn into her mouth with her other hand, her eyes trained keenly on the television, where Mulder and Scully are having an argument.

Barba gives a little snort, grabbing a handful of popcorn from her bowl. “I can’t believe you like The X-Files.”

“Shhhh,” she shushes him, and without looking him, she picks up the remote and turns the volume up two notches.

He frowns, and scots closer to her. Slipping an arm around her waist, he nuzzles her neck, breathing in her fresh scent, and presses a kiss on the underside of her jaw.

She gives a pleasurable little sigh, tilting her neck to give him more access, and he grins. He trails his lips upwards, and kisses her firmly. She responds almost immediately, sweeping her tongue on his upper lip so she can gain access to his mouth, touching her tongue to his as he eagerly deepens the kiss.

Barba scoops up her legs and drags her onto his lap, momentarily pulling back to catch his breath, and then he attacks her neck again, nipping and licking, and she shifts herself to straddle him.

He is about to kiss her again, when she pulls back.

“Wait,” she whispers, and then manoeuvres around to grab the remote control. She presses the pause button, and then she drops the remote onto the floor. She is about to resume their make-out session, when she sees the incredulous expression on his face.

“Did you just stop kissing me so you can _pause_ the TV?”

Liv smirks. “At least I’m not pressing pause on kissing you.”


	41. 041: regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; regret  
> pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: weekly prompt from @thebarsondaily on tumblr

Liv wakes up to a ray of sunlight streaming through her windows. She blinks, and the memory of the previous night comes rushing back to her. Turning around, she reaches out…only to feel cool sheets, and nothing else.

Sitting up, she realises that she’s alone in her bedroom. Her clothes are on the floor, where they had left them yesterday, but his clothes are gone. Her heart sinks, and she runs a hand through her hair.

She should’ve known that it would be a mistake; she shouldn’t have kissed him. She shouldn’t have allowed them to get carried away. Maybe he had wanted her in the heat of the moment, but now that it’s morning, perhaps he had realised that _she_ is not the person he wants.

 _It’s okay_ , she tells herself. She’ll pretend that it never happened. He’ll be relieved. They can still be friends. She just needs to convince herself that her heart is not breaking.

Her door opens then, and she looks up to see Barba walking in, dressed in the clothes he had on yesterday, his hair rumpled. He looks at her, and his eyes crinkle into a smile.

“Noah woke up, but you were sleeping, so I thought I’d…”

He’s cut off mid-sentence as she launches herself into his arms, burying her face into the crook of his neck.

“Liv…?” He asked, his tone surprised.

“I…I thought you had left. I thought maybe you’d regretted what happened between us.”

Barba cups her cheek with one hand, his fingers gentle, as she looks up at him.

“The only thing I regret, Lieutenant, is not kissing you the moment I met you.”

She laughs, and he captures her lips with his, kissing her fiercely, telling her everything she needs to know.

There’s no way he’s regretting this.


	42. 042: midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; midnight  
> pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: weekly prompt from @thebarsondaily on tumblr

Barba comes to her exactly at midnight, every night, and sits with her. She’s still trying to make sense of it, trying to understand, but she doesn’t think she can, not really, and she thinks that she should actually be grateful, that he is right here with her.

He apologises to her tonight.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s more difficult than she had thought – to listen to those words, and harder still to accept them. She tries to diffuse them by being snarky.

“Rafael Barba – apologising? This is a moment for the history books.”

He shakes his head, and his hand ghosts upon hers. “Liv.”

She looks at him. “I don’t know if I could forgive you.”

He nods, seemingly understanding. “You’re always stubborn, after all.”

“You knew that from day one.”

“I knew that I loved you from day one.”

She presses her lips together, glaring at him. “Don’t think you can win my forgiveness by saying that, Barba.”

“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying,” he shrugs.

They’re quiet for a moment, and then she speaks. “You knew that I loved you.”

He sighs, and she can feel his fingertips on her face. “I knew that, but I just didn’t know that it would hurt this much to leave you.”

“Then you should just come back to me.”

His eyes are so green, so _real_ , and they’re telling her everything she already knows. It’s long past midnight, and he has to go. He leans over, and brushes her lips with his.

“Remember that I love you. Tell Noah that I love him.”

“Will you still come to me tomorrow?”

“I’ll come as long as you need me.”

“Forever, then.”

“I love you, Liv.”

“I love you, too, Raf.”

Barba smiles wistfully, and when she opens her eyes, he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry, I don't know what came over me.


	43. 043: bruise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _bruise_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: weekly prompt from @thebarsondaily on tumblr

Liv frowns a little, tilting her head sideways as she studies her handiwork.

“I think a little more concealer _here_ , and then I’ll cover up this darker bit with some foundation.”

Barba winces a little as she dabs some concealer under his eye with her fingers, and she leans forward and kisses his forehead quickly. “I’m sorry, does it hurt? I’ll try to be gentler.”

“You, Lieutenant,” he says, his tone disgruntled, “have a mean left hook.”

She was in his office, talking about a case, and as it usually is with them, one thing led to another, and soon, she found herself on his lap, her lips fused to his.  

Carisi then knocked, and barged in without waiting for any signal, and in her haste to clamber off his lap and rearrange her clothes, Liv had inadvertently punched Barba in the face.

“Well, in my defense, it was an accident.  And you told me the door was locked.”

“Still… _ow._ ” He grimaces as she brushes some foundation onto the bruise with a few brisk strokes.

“There! As good as new.”

He peers into her compact mirror, touching the hidden bruise gingerly. “Thank goodness I don’t have to go to court looking like a domestic abuse victim.”

“Are you implying that I’m an abuser, Barba?”

He smirks. “Well, you _did_ punch me.”

She smirks back, and leans closer, smoothing out the foundation a little more with her brush.

A loud knock sounds at the door, and then it swings open, to reveal Amanda and Fin standing there. They take in the scene of Barba holding a compact mirror, and Liv dabbing at his face with a foundation brush.

Fin raises an eyebrow. “Man, I don’t wanna know.”

Liv shakes her head.  “You really have got to start locking that door, Barba.”


	44. 044: midnight (take two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _midnight (take two)_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 628 words  
> note: weekly prompt from @thebarsondaily on tumblr

Liv glares at her phone on table – as if it is all the phone’s fault that she’s still up at midnight, drinking wine instead of sleeping. It has been almost four hours since she stormed out of his office. And he hasn’t called her, or texted her – and she refuses to make the first move.

It wasn’t _her_ fault. It was all _him_ – stupid, stubborn, pain-in-the-ass Barba.

Truth be told, she kind of hates fighting with him, especially in the last few months. Sometimes, it gives her a slight sense of insecurity, it makes her worry, it makes her _think_ about the what-ifs.

Fleetingly, she wonders about the fact that they never seem to apologise to each other. For all the arguments and fights they have – and let’s face it, it’s a _lot_ – she cannot recall one moment where the word “sorry” had been uttered.

(She’s too proud, and so is he)

Well, she remembered that one time when she went undercover as a madam, involved a civilian, and he had shown up in her office (it was around midnight, too), all incensed, and she had thrown out a rather insincere apology to his indignance.

Her phone rings, interrupting her reverie. His name flashes on the screen, and she swipes her phone, answering it.

“Benson,” she says purposely, interjecting a tone of formality.

“Liv.”

“It’s almost midnight, so this had better be important. What do you want, Barba?” She asks coolly.

He huffs impatiently on the other end. “I don’t want to leave it the way it was.”

She waits for it, but it doesn’t come.

(She knows it won’t)

“You knew that there wasn’t enough for me to push for the case.”

“You could’ve put it in better terms, instead of telling me ‘bleeding hearts don’t win cases’.”

“That’s because you weren’t _listening_.”

“Look – are you calling just to yell at me some more? Because I’m really not interested.”

“No, I…Liv,” he sighs. “I’m actually outside your apartment. Can I come in?”

She contemplates turning him away, but she knows that she couldn’t do it. “Fine.”

She hangs up, and stands up, walking to her door. She yanks it open to see Barba standing there, still dressed in his work clothes. She leans against the doorframe, clearly not planning to invite him in.

He gets it, and she detects the slight eye roll before he begins talking.

“I spent the last couple of hours reviewing the testimonies, and I considered all the angles. If you really want to push for this – then you have to spare some time talking to people in his past. Past relationships, possible past instances of him being an abuser. Bring me something, so I have reason to pursue it.”

“…you spent the last four hours in your office, looking over a case that you told me was ‘hopeless’ and ‘a waste of time’?” She asks incredulously.

He looks at her. “Well, yes, isn’t this what you wanted?”

Liv meets his gaze steadily, and she feels the corner of her mouth turning up in a slight smile. “Is this your way of saying you’re sorry, Raf?”

“Hell, no. _This_ is.”

He steps closer to her, and pushes her into her apartment, closing the door behind them. Spinning her around, he pins her against the door. He places his arms on either side of her, trapping her within the circle of his body, and claims her lips in a demanding, searing kiss.

She grabs the lapels of his suit jacket and kisses him back, slipping her tongue inside his mouth to savor the taste of him.

“Apology accepted,” she murmurs between kisses, as she busies herself with taking off his jacket.

She can feel his smirk against her lips, as he kisses her harder.


	45. 045: proposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _proposition_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 783 words  
> note: prompt from sunshine-and-the-catsuit on tumblr

Barba looks at his watch as he hurries out of his office, briefcase in hand. It’s late, and it has been a long day, and he can’t wait to get home, to a good glass of scotch. He contemplates taking the short cut home, and then he decides to do it. He would have to walk through a slightly undesirable part of town, but it’s a short stretch, and he never has any problems anyway.

He quickens his step as he rounds into the narrow street, warily noting the more unsavoury characters giving his looks as he walks past them. As he is hurrying through, he notices a very familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. Slowing down, he then stops, his eyes widening in disbelief as he recognises her.

It’s a miracle that he recognises her at all, actually, for Lieutenant Olivia Benson is dressed in a very tight, very short pink miniskirt, a black tube-top that covers next to nothing at all, with a cropped denim jacket, and black knee-length boots. Her make up is heavy, her eyes ringed heavily with eyeliner, and her lipstick traffic-light red. Her hair is teased and moussed into tousled, sexy locks.

But before he can say anything, she yanks him to her by his tie, and then pushes him up against the wall.

“Are you up for a good time, handsome? I can show you a fucking amazing time,” she says, her voice husky, but audible.

His usually quick mind is failing him terribly, as he tries to grasp and make sense of the situation. But it is very hard with her pressing up against him, towering over him and looking down at him with those wide brown eyes (damn her and those boots with four-inch heels). She’s caressing his cheek with one hand, and her other hand is still entangled around his tie, ensuring that he’s in close proximity with her. She pushes her knee between his legs, never letting the seductive expression slip from her face.

“How about it? I promise you that I am very, _very_ good.”

Finally, the wheels in his brain click into place (and honestly, he could not believe that it had taken him more than a minute to _get it_ ), and he musters up a smirk, meeting her gaze challengingly.

“I have very high expectations.”

Liv laughs throatily, and leans nearer, her lips ghosting on his cheek as she moves to nibble on his earlobe, and then she tugs on it gently with her teeth. His breath hitches – that is _certainly_ unexpected.

But two can play the undercover game.

He slips his hands under her cropped denim jacket and splays his fingers over the bare skin of her hips, pulling her even closer to him.

“I think I may choose to believe you, but what is the price of that ‘fucking amazing’ time?”

“It’s priceless, baby, but for you, three hundred bucks for an hour.”

He suddenly has this urge to laugh, but her hand slipping down his chest is a reminder for him to stay in character. That, and the fact that her fingers are now toying with the button on the front of his pants.

Barba tilts his head upwards, and daringly drags his tongue down the side of her neck. She gasps, and he smirks to himself, knowing that _that_ reaction is genuine. His hands are inching upwards to the hem of her tube top when there is a loud sound of a throat being cleared.

They both turn around to see Fin frowning at them – Fin, who is decked out in textbook pimp gear, completed with a dollar sign encrusted with diamonds hanging from a heavy gold chain.

“Caramel, get back to ya corner. I’ll send pretty boy here over if he’s willing to pay.”

Liv backs off, but she shoots Barba a look that he instantly understands. He nods back at her imperceptibly, and then turns to Fin, who is glaring at him.

“Well? Three hundred bucks.”

Barba makes a show of reaching for his wallet, and looking at the bills inside. “Two-fifty.”

“Two-fifty!? Why, I oughta…” Fin raises his hand, and then lowers his hand. “You know what, get the fuck out of here, you cheapskate. Don’t let me see you in here again, or I’ll make sure you’re buried in that suit you’re wearing.”

That is his out, he knows, and his cue to exit as gracefully as he can, and not destroy the obvious undercover investigation that’s currently underway.

Still, he can’t help but throw one final look at Liv, and he then has to squash all the inappropriate thoughts that surface almost immediately.

He definitely blames the boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extended version with shenanigans found here: [and i'm falling for you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8360974)


	46. 046: betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _betrayal_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: weekly prompt from @thebarsondaily on tumblr

Barba has everything flawlessly planned, because it has to be perfect. He spent nights in his mother's kitchen perfecting the ultimate dinner, he researched on the best wine to go with his cooking. He used his free time between cases to write the most heartfelt speech, but in the end decided to be spontaneous and go with his heart.

He even includes Noah, because the little boy is such a huge part of their lives, and one of the reasons why he wants to do this. He rehearsed repeatedly with Noah on his part in the plan.

It's the day he is to execute his grand plan. He's already enlisted Rollins and Carisi to distract Liv while he goes home and starts preparing for dinner. But just as he's about to leave his office, Carisi calls him.

"Barba, Noah's not well, and has been sent home from daycare. Lieu has left to go home to take care of him."

Instantly, worry envelops him, and he rushes out of his office, heading home. He opens the door to their apartment to see Noah sitting on Liv's lap in the living room.

On the coffee table is a blue box from Tiffany's.

He puts down his suitcase, and Noah smiles brightly when he sees him. "Rafi, I remember!" He says proudly. "Give Mummy the box!"

Barba looks at Noah with mock betrayal. "Noah, this isn't what we practiced."

Liv laughs, and tugs him to sit down on the couch beside her and Noah. Leaning over, she presses a kiss to his mouth.

"The answer is yes," she grins, lifting her left hand, waggling her beringed finger at him. "Sorry, I've already helped myself to it."

Kissing her senseless seems like a good way to celebrate their engagement, so he does just that.


	47. 047: betrayal (take two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _betrayal (take two)_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 831 words  
> note: weekly prompt from @thebarsondaily on tumblr

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s been kissed like this. Hell, she doesn’t remember if she’s ever been kissed like this. It feels like every part of her is on fire, flames licking at her skin as his mouth moves over hers, his tongue tangling with hers aggressively, yet tenderly at the same time.

Her hands are around his neck, her fingers tugging on his hair as he untucks her blouse from her slacks, his hands sliding up from her hips, to her waist, to her back, underneath her blouse. His touch is searing, setting her skin alight with desire.

She doesn’t quite understand how this happened. She had stormed to his apartment after failing to catch him at his office, furious at his refusal to take a sexual abuse case to trial. They were snapping at each other as per usual, trading barbs back and forth, and suddenly, she found herself in his arms, and he was kissing her fiercely, desperately, as if she was the air he needed to breathe with.

He’s pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on her neck now, toying with the clasp of her bra, as she pushes down his suspenders and fumbles with the buttons on his shirt.

“Liv,” he whispers raggedly against her neck as he sucks and nips at her pulse point. She gasps with pleasure, and then a coherent thought pushes itself into her passion-addled mind.

_You shouldn’t be doing this_.

“Wait…Rafael…”and with all the self control she can muster, she pushes him away slightly, putting distance between them as she adjusts her blouse. “We can’t do this.”

He looks at her, hurt clouding his eyes, darkening the green in them.

“I can’t do this to Ed,” she admits. It would be a betrayal – it already _is_ a betrayal.

“Ed,” he says, his tone mocking. “Why are you with him, Liv? Why are you with him when you know you have feelings for me? Don’t tell me otherwise. You don’t kiss me like that if you don’t have feelings for me.”

“It’s…I…” She stops. She couldn’t say the words – _one-off, temporary insanity, heat of the moment_ – because all of that is not true. She wants him. And she had wanted him for a very long time. But then where does that leave Tucker?

He pounces immediately on her hesitancy. “You know I’m the one who you should be with.”

She feels her own temper rising. “Why are you telling me this _now_ when you know I’m with Ed? What are you trying to do to me, Barba?”

“I’m telling you now because I love you!”

She looks at him in shock, and he looks equally affected. It’s out in the open now, and he can’t take it back.

“I love you,” he says in a quieter tone. “And it kills me to see you with him.”

“Rafael…” she falters. She doesn’t know what to say. She knows it isn’t right with Tucker; and she doesn’t know why she’s persisting with it. Just because it seems like the right thing to do? “I can’t betray Ed like this.”

Barba reaches out, and grabs her by the shoulders, looking at her squarely. “But it’s all right to betray your own feelings?”

She eases his hands off her shoulders, and takes a step back. “I need to think, Rafael. You can’t just dump this on me and expect me to be with you.”

“I do. I do expect you to do exactly that, because I know you love me, too.”

The truth of his words hit her like a freight train, and she sees what she’s been trying to avoid for all this while – that she loves him, and she settled for Tucker because she’s scared of losing him, because it if doesn’t work out with them, she would have lost her best friend, the one person that understands her more than anyone else.

But the truth remains, now that she’s with Tucker, and she cannot do this.

So she turns, and leaves his apartment. He watches her go, anger, sorrow and devastation crowding him, all at once.

* * *

Drinking seems to be the only way he could numb the pain of losing her, _really_ losing her. He may have never had her the way he wanted – except for that few minutes of bliss – but he had her as his best friend, and he’s completely lost her now,

It’s close to midnight when his doorbell rings, and he pauses in the motion of pouring yet another glass of scotch.

He walks to the door, and pulls it open, to see her standing there, hands in the pockets of her coat. She raises her eyes to his, and gives him a small smile.

“I ended it with Ed.”

Hope lights up his eyes, but still he waits.

“Because you’re right. I do love you.”

He grabs her, crushing her against him as he kisses her, kisses her like she belongs to him, because she does now.


	48. 048: playing footsie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _playing footsie_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 674 words  
> note: plot bunny from @sunshine-and-the-catsuit on tumblr

“Counselor, I’m glad you and your client realise that you are fighting a losing battle, and that you realise that I am right.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Barba. My client just wants this all to go away, and he does not want any more days in court.” Calhoun sets down her bag, and takes a seat opposite Barba and Liv. “Let’s get straight to business. My client will plead guilty to sexual misconduct.”

“Sexual misconduct? Your client raped Kristin Parker when she was _asleep_ , because of the sleeping pills he gave her,” Liv sputters, nearly getting to her feet, but Barba’s hand on her thigh under the table calms her down.

“We’re not taking this offer, sorry. Now are you still open to discussion, or shall I see you in court?”

Calhoun purses her lips. “My client is hoping to avoid the felony charge.”

Liv frowns, and is about to say something when she feels a sensation on her right calf. It feels like the tip of a leather shoe. She looks at Barba, but his face is perfectly impassive as he continues the discussion as usual. “I don’t think a felony charge could be avoided, in any sense.”

“What is the deal you are prepared to offer, then?” Calhoun asks briskly, taking out her legal pad.

The tip of his shoe is pressing against her calf, and he moves his foot up and down, lightly stroking her leg. She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye, and moves her left leg to kick his out of the way.

“I’m prepared to offer rape in the second degree. Five years in prison, and he goes on the registry,” Barba says calmly, nudging Liv’s foot again with his own. This time, he presses his foot lightly on top of hers, before trailing it to the side, circling her ankle.

Two can play the game, she thinks. She carefully keeps her eyes on Calhoun as she moves her foot to retaliate, nudging his foot lightly, and pushes at the heel of his shoe with her boot.

“Five years? Counselor, my client and Kristin Parker were in a relationship.”

Barba looks at Calhoun disbelievingly. “Seriously, Rita? And that gives him the right to give her sleeping pills, and then have sex with her without her consent?”

Liv finds it impressive that he delivered all of that without flinching, as her foot moves up further his leg, using the tip of her boot to trace curlicues on his calf.  

Calhoun sighs, considering. “Fine. Rape in the third degree. He does three years, and he goes on the registry.”

 “The DA’s office will accept that,” he says calmly, regaining the upper hand, as he effectively flicks away Liv’s foot with his, and hooks her ankle with his, rubbing and tickling the side of her foot.

Liv stomps on his foot then, and he winces involuntarily. Unfortunately, Calhoun sees that, and her eyebrow raises. “Counselor?”

“Cramp,” he explains smoothly, getting to his feet gingerly, putting on a show. “I’ll let the judge know of our consensus.”

Calhoun throws them a suspicious look, then she nods curtly and sweeps out of the room. As the door shuts safely behind her, they both sit down again, as Barba mock-glares at Liv. “Is crushing my foot _really_ necessary, Lieutenant?”

She shrugs. “Hey, don’t start a fire if you can’t take the heat. But seriously, what the hell was that, Raf?”

“I was bored with Rita. I know I’m going to get exactly what I want, so I thought about making the proceedings more interesting for myself.”

She snorts, kicking him lightly.

“Oh, are we still doing this?” He asks, leaning closer to her, pressing his thigh and knee against hers as he nudges her foot.

“No, we’re not,” she says, delivering a kick to his shin before she stands up. “You are going to see the judge, and I need to talk to Kristin.”

“Party pooper.”

She laughs, and kisses him quickly. “You know you love me.”

“That, I do.”


	49. 049: it's forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _it’s forever_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 570 words

Barba checks his watch for the umpteenth time. He’s dressed in one of his sharpest suits, tie and pocket square coordinated perfectly. He’s nervous, but at the same time, he’s calm. It’s a strange combination, that’s for sure.

“Chill, Barba. It’s five minutes to ten. She’s still got time.” Carisi lounges beside him on the steps of City Hall, with Fin next to him.

Barba is about to give a snappy reply when he sees her hurrying up the steps, with Amanda, carrying Jesse in her arms, and his mother, who, in turn, is holding Noah’s hand. She’s looking absolutely beautiful, with her hair up in a classic chignon, her make-up fresh and understated. She’s dressed a deep red dress that she had bought for the occasion, and the dress shows off all her assets to their best advantage.

She reaches him on top of the steps, and takes his hand.  “I’m ready,” she says, as she takes the bouquet of lilies Fin is holding out to her with her other hand. “Are you?”

“I’ve been ready since the day I met you,” he tells her, and she gives a laugh, thinking that he’s being snarky again, but then she looks at him, and she realises that he’s being completely serious.

Her heart melts, and she leans in and kisses him.

* * *

There’s no fanfare, no elaborate decorations and flowers, and no glitzy parties. The people that they love surround them as the judge reads out the vows, and they sign the papers, and exchange the rings.

It’s quiet, simple and straightforward, just the way they want it.

He kisses her; and her lips cling to his as she deepens the kiss, and it’s the first time they’re kissing as husband and wife.

* * *

They have a boisterous dinner at a Cuban restaurant owned by one of Lucia’s friends, and it’s an affair full of laughter and joy. Cragen, Munch and Amaro join them for the dinner, along with a few members of Barba’s extended family. It somehow turns into a party, but it’s a small and intimate one.

Carisi gets ridiculously drunk, and insists on making a toast that somehow turns into a soppy love declaration for Amanda and Jesse, much to the former’s absolute horror and embarrassment. But it’s all good because everyone knows she loves him, too.

Cragen and Fin both give touching speeches as Liv’s surrogate father and brother, and Liv cries during Lucia’s toast (and Barba claims there’s a speck of dust in his eyes).

Throughout the night, Barba keeps his hand on Liv’s, on her thigh, on her back. He can’t stop touching her, because she’s now his wife.

* * *

They tuck Noah into bed, and he goes off to sleep easily, exhausted by the day’s festivities and excitement.

Liv takes Barba’s hand and leads him to their bedroom, closing the door and giving him that _look_ that he knows so well. He smiles at her lazily, and then her hands are on him, loosening his tie and he’s busy unzipping her dress.

They made love slowly, leisurely, easily, because they have all the time in the world, because they’re married now.

Afterwards, she curls up against him, and rests her head on his chest, and she thinks about how much she loves him. He holds her close to him, kissing her forehead, and he thinks about how this is going to be forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For J, who religiously watches Law & Order: SVU with me (despite declaring that “I don’t need courtrooms and lawyers _outside_ of work”), who listens to me dissecting cases, characters and relationships on the show, who puts up with my blathering about Barson, who doesn’t laugh at me for writing fanfiction. 
> 
> I love you, and I am so so so so (x a million) happy we got married today.


	50. 050: trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _trust_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: weekly prompt from @thebarsondaily on tumblr

Liv opens her eyes to weak sunlight streaming in through her blinds, and is face to face with a sleeping Barba. She’s pressed close against him, and she feels a rush of heat overcoming her as she remembers the events of the previous night.

 The arm around her waist tightens almost possessively, as he opens his eyes and looks at her sleepily. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” she whispers back. Her heart skips a beat as she gradually realises that she had slept with her best friend. The complications, the repercussions, where to go from here…her thoughts are all jumbled up, racing madly through her head.

“Liv, I can hear you thinking.”

She laughs awkwardly, and sits up, easing his arm off her. “Urm…look…I’m going to go…”

He sits up as well, and grabs her arm. “Liv.” His tone is calm, but his meaning is clear. _Talk to me_.

She looks down, and fidgets. “I’m scared,” she confesses.

“Of?”

“If this doesn’t work, I’ll lose you, even as my best friend.”

“And what makes you think this wouldn’t work?” He asks carefully.

“I’ll mess up. Or you’ll mess up. Or we’ll both fuck it up at the same time,” she says, her tone frank.

He gives a short bark of laughter, and she glares at him. “I’m serious, Rafael. What if we crash and burn?”

He stops laughing, and looks at her seriously. “So what? You want to pretend this never happened?”

She avoids his eyes, and avoids answering his question directly. “I have too much to lose. Because I can’t lose you.”

He rests his hand on her cheek, turning her to face him, looking at her straight in the eye. “Liv, do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“Then jump. You know that I’ll never, ever let you fall.”

 


	51. 051: not even a little bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _not even a little bit_  
>  pairing: (platonic?) rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 747 words

Liv sips her coffee and looks at her watch. It’s nearly eight-forty-five, and there’s still no sign of Barba at their favourite takeaway coffee place outside the courthouse. Taking out a phone, she types a quick message to him.

_Where are you?_

His reply pings back a minute later. _Sorry, am in a meeting with the DA. Got dragged in at eight. He’s still rambling._

She snickers, and replies him with a smirking emoji. She slips her phone back into her coat pocket, drains her coffee and heads towards the precinct.

* * *

It’s ten in the morning, and somehow Liv is finding it hard to concentrate. She picks up her phone and looks at it. There’s a notification that she has unread emails, a weather alert, but no new messages. She scrolls to Barba’s name.

_Still in the meeting?_

Her phone lights up after two minutes.

_Yes. Dying._

She smiles to herself, and chooses not to taunt him. Instead, she slips on her glasses, and tries to focus her attention on a case instead.

* * *

Carisi raps on her office door, and pokes his head in. “Lieu, we’re going to head out for lunch at Ben’s in five minutes, do you want to come with us?”

She glances at the clock on her wall, it’s almost one o’clock, and certainly time for lunch. “Sure. I’ll come out in a minute.”

She locates her phone among the mess of papers on her desk, and unlocks it, tapping rapidly.

_Lunch with the squad at Ben’s in fifteen._

This time, his reply is almost instantaneous.

_Sorry, on my way to an urgent inquiry. Wish I could go though, all I had for lunch was some rather questionable pasta that I am not exactly sure is fit to be consumed._

“Liv? Ready to go?”

Amanda looks at her through the opened office door. She’s got her coat on, and so does Carisi and Fin.

Liv looks at her phone, where Barba’s message is still lighted up on the screen. “On second thought…you guys go ahead. I think I’ll catch up a couple of case files. Can you get me a sandwich?”

* * *

She reviews her email, eyes scanning through keenly. Satisfied, she signs her name, and sends the email to Chief Dodds. Leaning back and massaging her neck with one hand, Liv idly picks up her phone. There’s a text from Lucy, saying that she’s picked up Noah from day care, and will take him to a cartoon at the movies as promised.

She quickly types a note of thanks to Lucy, and then frowns a little, seeing no messages from Barba.

_Poisoned by the pasta, Barba? Are you still alive?_

She waits, but no reply comes through, so she tosses her phone on her desk, and tries to concentrate on work. She’s finishing an e-mail (work related) to Melinda when her phone pings.

_I’m alive, sorry to disappoint you. Still in court, jury selection. Defense attorney is an idiotic asshole._

She laughs, she can just imagine that utterly dissatisfied look on Barba’s face that surfaces whenever he’s faced with someone significantly less intelligent than he is.

* * *

It’s six o’clock, and she’s packing up to go home. It has been a relatively stress day, but somehow she’s feeling restless, and a bit out of sorts, like she’s missing something. But she can’t really place it.

Shrugging her coat on, she picks up her bag with one hand, as she types a quick message with her other hand. With her eyes trained on her phone, she doesn’t see Barba coming in, and promptly collides into him.

“Whoa!” He reaches out and grabs her upper arm, steadying her.

“Thanks,” she mutters, regaining her balance. She looks at him, albeit surprised. “What’re you doing here, Barba?”

“Well, you haven’t seen me all day, so I thought I’ll grace you with my presence,” he drawls.

Liv rolls her eyes. “I’m truly honoured.”

Barba bumps her shoulder with his as they walk out together. “Come on, you know you miss me.”

Her step falters, for just a second, but she recovers quickly, and snorts. “Not even a little bit.”

“Really? That’s too bad, because I miss you,” he says, his tone offhanded as he swings his briefcase.

Liv stops walking, and stares at him. He looks back at her, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile.

“So…dinner?”

She smiles back at him, and catches up to him, matching him step for step. “Sure.”


	52. 052: anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; anger __  
> pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
>  word count: 300 words  
> note: prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]

Barba makes her so angry sometimes. Furious, even. His arrogance. His refusal to listen. His tendency to get all political. His ability to get a rise out of her.

But Liv knows she does the same to him. She gets him angry, too. And he would say the same. _Her_ arrogance. Her stubbornness. Her persistence in bringing him weak cases. Her ability to get under his skin and just _stay_ there.

Right now, they’re circling each other warily, neither of them willing to give in. As she watches him, the corner of his mouth lifted into that smug, infuriating smirk that she knows so well. He stands up, and lean towards her, never breaking their eye contact.

“Save it, Liv. You know you don’t have enough.”

“I’m not leaving your office until you get me that warrant.”

“Feel free to continue standing around then,” he says, adjusting his tie, retrieving his suit jacket as he glides past her. “I unfortunately have court to attend to.”

Liv lets out a frustrated growl, and in one swift movement, she grabs him by his tie, dragging him towards her, claiming his lips in a hot, demanding, open-mouthed kiss. His arms go up around her back as he pulls her closer to him, matching her in her aggression.

She pulls back first, panting, hands still maintaining a grip on his tie. He arches an eyebrow at her. “Is this your way of telling me you’re leaving it?”

“No, this is my way of telling you that if I don’t kiss you, I’d end up punching you instead. But about that warrant…”

He smirks, detangling her fingers from his tie. “The answer is still no.”

She shoots daggers at his back as he leaves. She’ll get her own back.

He’s sleeping on the couch tonight.


	53. 053: couch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _couch_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 722 words  
> note: this plot bunny is thanks to CUtopia – who got me thinking about the continuation of the last drabble.

Barba checks his phone as he strides out from the courthouse briskly. There are two messages from Carisi regarding a case, an e-mail from Carmen, two e-mails from the DA, and a missed call from his mother.

But there’s nothing from Liv.

Frowning, he drops his phone into his briefcase and quickens his step. She couldn’t be _really_ angry, right? She had to be able to see it the way it was – there wasn’t enough for a warrant. No judge would grant it, and he wasn’t about to get a judge to try.

* * *

He knocks on her door twice, waits for five seconds, and then he slips his key into the lock. Entering her apartment, he calls out to her. “Liv?”

He can hear sounds from the television – one of Noah’s educational cartoons – by the sound of it, as he hangs up his jacket, his coat, and slips his feet into his slippers. As soon as he steps into the living room, Noah hurls himself towards him and hugs his legs.

“Baba!”

“Hola, amigo,” he says, ruffling the toddler’s hair fondly. “Where’s your…” His sentence dies on his lips as he notices his pajamas folded neatly on the couch, and a blanket beside it.

“Noah, time for bed,” Liv appears in the living room, and holds out her hand to Noah, studiously ignoring Barba’s presence.

“Liv, are you serious?” His tone is incredulous.

She throws him a look as Noah lets go of his legs and bounces towards his mother. Without another word, she ushers the little boy into his room and shuts the door.

Barba groans and shakes his head, loosening his tie and heading towards the kitchen. A glass of scotch is very much needed indeed.

* * *

It’s about fifteen minutes later when Liv comes out of Noah’s bedroom, shutting the door softly. Barba sits on one end of the couch, nursing his scotch with a rather annoyed look on his face.

“Isn’t it a little, sorry, I mean, _extremely_ and _excessively_ childish for you to be throwing tantrums at me?” He asks, his tone abrupt.

“I did not appreciate your complete dismissal of me,” she says coolly.

He snorts, glaring at her. “What, you think you could kiss your way to a warrant? I’m sorry, it doesn’t and it never will work that way. I’m disappointed, Lieutenant, I thought you are a professional.”

Liv toys with the belt of her robe, tilting her head to one side. “You’re probably right. I _am_ being unreasonable, but guess what? I feel vindicated, being this childish. It curbs my anger.”

“Liv, por favor,” he says exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

She yawns, and releases her hair from its bun, her hair tumbling down in waves. “Well, I’m going to bed. Hope the couch is comfortable, Barba.”

“ _Liv_ ,” he says snappily, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. He then realises that she has intentionally loosened the belt of her robe, to reveal that she’s wearing a very sheer and rather skimpy black negligée.

She smiles at him slowly, and placing her hand on his chest, she pushes him back. “Couch, Barba.”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

Liv shrugs, and the strap of her negligée slides down one shoulder. “Isn’t that obvious?”

He crosses his arms, trying not to stare at her, and at every single curve of her body that is visible under her sheer negligée. “So what, you’re going to torture me into getting you warrants? Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”

She taps her finger against her cheek, pretending to think. “Not _torture_ exactly. Aggressive persuasion, maybe?”

“You’re being utterly ridiculous.”

She smirks at him. “But I’m having fun.”

“Liv…” he takes a step forward and she holds up her hand.

“I mean what I said…you’re getting the couch tonight.”

“Oh, am I?”

Before she could react, he has pulled her towards him, crushing her against him as he kisses her aggressively, running his hands possessively down the sides of her body.

“If I’m getting the couch…then you’re sleeping on the couch with me,” he growls.

She laughs, and unbuckles his belt with deft hands. “Well…since we haven’t fucked on the couch in a while…”

“Keep talking like that, and we won’t make it to a couch,” he says breathlessly, and kisses her hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested to find out whether they made it to the couch or not...it's [all here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8642005) \- please note it is _rather_ explicit.


	54. 054: catching them all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _catching them all_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 836 words

“Raf, are you ready for lunch?” Liv pokes her head around the door to Barba’s office to see him flipping through a case file, an ever-present frown on his face. That frown, however, fades away into a quick smile when he sees her standing there.

“Yes, give me a minute,” he answers, closing the file and placing it neatly on his desk. She waits for him as he walks towards her, shoving his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, and retrieving his phone from his pocket. He presses a kiss onto her cheek, but his eyes are trained on his phone, scrolling and tapping rapidly.

Liv mock sighs in disappointment. “Has the day finally arrived, the day that I have to compete with your phone for your attention?”

“Don’t sulk, Lieutenant. It’s very unbecoming,” he smirks, taking her hand in his, but making no move to put away his phone.

“What are you looking at, anyway?” She tries to look at his screen, but he quickly locks it and slips his phone into his pocket.

“Porn,” he says casually.

She rolls her eyes and accidentally-on-purpose steps on his foot.

* * *

Carisi is telling a long story about something, with lots of hand gestures and dramatic expressions, but no one except Amanda is paying attention. Liv is at least pretending to listen, while Fin is preoccupied with finishing his dessert. Barba, on the other hand, has a completely bored look on his face as he finishes his second cup of coffee.

Suddenly, he sits up straighter as his phone emits a series of beeps. Pulling his phone out, he swipes it and looks intently at it for five seconds. He shoves back his chair and stands up quickly. “I have to go out and…make a call,” he mutters vaguely, and walks out of the door.

Liv stares after him with an air of curiosity, but then her attention is drawn towards Carisi and Amanda, who are having a full-fledged argument about certain elements in former’s story.

* * *

“Hey, where’s Barba?” Fin asks suddenly, interrupting the conversation between Liv, Amanda and Carisi.

She looks towards the lawyer’s chair, he had been gone for a good ten minutes. “Still making a call, I guess?”

“Oh wait, he’s just out there, on the sidewalk,” Carisi cranes his neck and spots Barba. Liv follows Carisi’s gaze, and sees him as well – but he isn’t on the phone as expected. Rather, he’s strolling back and forth on the sidewalk, staring at his phone, and occasionally waving it with a scowl on his face.

“What is he _doing_?” Amanda wonders out loud.

“Well, whatever he’s doing, someone get him back in here, it’s his turn to pick up the lunch tab,” Fin says matter-of-factly.

“I’m not going to approach him while he has that look on his face,” Carisi says immediately, as everyone at the table stares at Liv.

She rolls her eyes and stands up, walking to the door of the café and pushing it open. He’s stationary now, his attention purely focused on his phone as he swipes one finger upwards on the screen in a flicking motion. “Raf,” she calls out, and he doesn’t even turn to look at her.

“One moment…I’ve nearly got it…YES!” He exclaims suddenly, pumping one fist in the air.

(Inside the café, Carisi manages to capture a photo of Barba doing exactly just that, and he snickers to himself, thinking of the blackmailing he is going to subject the ADA to)

Liv stares at him open-mouthed. “What,” she says slowly, “is wrong with you?”

He looks at her, grinning, and then suddenly he seems to come to a realisation of some sorts. “Nothing,” he says quickly, locking his phone, but before he can tuck it into his pocket, Liv grabs it, and unlocks it.

“Pokémon Go?” she says incredulously. “Who are you and what have you done with Rafael Barba, you imposter?”

Blushing, he grabs his phone from her. “It’s for Noah,” he mutters. “You know how his iPad play time is limited to an hour a day – a move I absolutely agree with, by the way – and he’s having trouble filling up his Pokédex…and I received an alert on the radar today to say that a Charizard will be appearing in this part of town…”

His voice trails off when he sees her looking at him with an expression that suggests he might as well be speaking Arabic.

“Anyway, after all that, the point is, I’m just helping Noah to catch all the Pokémon…so that he could have a fuller Pokédex.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you, Rafael Barba, hater of all cell phone games, actually deigned to download and play a game, just to make my son happy?”

“Well…yes?”

Liv grabs him by the lapels of his suit jacket and tugs him closer to her, pressing her mouth against his in a lingering kiss.

“You’re amazing,” she tells him, and kisses him again.

“There’s no need to state the obvious, Liv.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: inspired by my sister trying to make me download Pokémon Go and helping her catch some region-specific Pokémon as I'm currently overseas for work/family visit. Farteched or something.


	55. 055: hypothetical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _hypothetical ___  
> pairing: dominick “sonny” carisi jr./amanda rollins  
>  word count: 643 words

Amanda is curled up against his side as she throws a handful of popcorn into her mouth, munching noisily as the bride on _Say Yes To The_ Dress comes out of the dressing room in a poufy princess dress.

“That is _not_ a good look for her,” she remarks, as Carisi toys with a lock of her hair idly.

“Mmmm,” he says absent-mindedly, and then the question just comes into his mind. Like the idiot he is, he blurts it out without thinking. “Do you ever think about getting married?”

He can feel her tensing up, and inwardly he curses himself. She shifts away from him slightly, in a move that is overtly casual. “To…?”

He tries to backtrack, fumbling a little. “To anyone, really. Y’know. In general. As a thought. An idea. Whatever.” He thinks the better of it, and then he blurts it out. “Okay, fine, yes, to me.”

Amanda takes a deep breath, and looks at him carefully. “Are you asking me to marry you?” Rewind to a few months ago, and this conversation would have sent her straight out of the door. The question still brings on a fluttering feeling of anxiety, but it seems to be for a different reason.

“No!” He says instantaneously. “I know, it’s too soon, but…maybe, sometime in the future?”

“So it’s a hypothetical question?”

“Yes,” he answers, twisting his fingers together nervous. “Hypothetically.”

She lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “That really depends on whether we’re still together in that future you’re talking about.” She regrets the words as soon as it leaves her, as she watches an expression of hurt flickers across Carisi’s face.

“And what makes you think we won’t be together?”

Amanda sighs, and rests her head on his shoulder. “Dominick, I’m trying to be realistic. I’m not psychic, I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

Nobody knows, and nobody can predict what will happen in the future, that is undeniable, but looking at Amanda, looking at the contours of her face and the features he has memorised, Carisi thinks that it may be possible that he does know. No, he is certain that he does know. He takes a deep breath. “I do.”

“You do?”

“I want to be with you,” he says clearly, picking up her hand and entwining her fingers with his. “And I will always want to be with you. With Jesse.”

She feels the warmth of his fingers around hers, tries to see into the future and beyond. It is not as clear as Carisi's, she thinks, but it is getting clearer.

He presses a kiss on top of her head. “I love you.”

She feels her throat closing up a little and she’s finding it a little hard to talk, so she just nods, and wraps her arms around his waist, burrowing her face into his chest.

“I'm not trying to pressure you,” he says, in a rush. “I'm not saying that we have to get married. I'm just...thinking. You know. Hypothetically. Do you want to get married?”

She lifts her face, laughing a little, rubbing away the little tear at the corner of her eye. “Are you proposing to me?”

He tenses a little, but there is no uncertainty in his eyes. “Hypothetically.”

She stares at him, and she can see that there’s probably a million thoughts running through his mind. He is scared, and apprehensive, as he waits for her answer, but at the same time, hopeful, so hopeful.

Carisi wears his heart on his sleeve, she thinks, or maybe it's because she knows him so well, and loves him so much. She rests her hand on his cheek, and pulls him to her for a long, lingering kiss.

“Ask me again,” Amanda says, as they part. “When it's not hypothetical.”

She smiles, and kisses him again. “And I’ll say yes.”


	56. 056: breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _breathe_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 606 words

Sometimes, Liv wonders if the universe is trying to keep them apart. It had taken them so much time, they went around in so many circles before they were able to be together. And now that they are, sometimes it still seems like they are not. Their jobs, their careers – once representing something that binds them together – are now seemingly driving them apart.

She’s a Captain now, and she has infinitely more responsibilities and has to hold more political hands.

He’s a US State Attorney now, a federal prosecutor, and his own political ambitions are growing stronger.

The distance between them is growing, but it’s not difficult to pretend not to see it, pretend that it does not matter, because they’re still waking up next to each other, because she still hears him breathe beside her.

But there are times when she does not see him for _days_ , because he’s travelling, he’s prosecuting controversial cases with big names, he’s attending political functions. It feels a bit strange when it’s just her and Noah, and it feels lonely, too.

She wonders if Barba feels lonely without them.

For the last year, it has been them – it has always been Olivia and Rafael. They have found each other, the other half that makes them whole, the other side of the same coin, the eternal infinity. It had been so wondrously intoxicating, and she was so sure that it is going to be forever.

Suddenly, somehow, without much warning, it is increasingly becoming Liv by herself, and she’s finding it hard to breathe without Barba beside her.

She’s not sure she can breathe without him. She’s not sure she _wants_ to breathe without him.

But it goes on. Her work, his work, their different commitments, their inability to have time for each other, and then comes inevitable clashes, the arguments, the resentment. Liv does not want to subject Noah to a home where he has to live with the tension and the anger of a failing relationship.

So she stops fighting.

Day by day, it passes, and it falls away, as Barba gradually moves out of their lives, scaling even greater heights in the world of politics.

Liv wonders if things are ever meant to last.

She finds that she is able to breathe without Barba.

She feels something within her breaking, but she accepts it, and she keeps on breathing.

* * *

_rewind; and remix_

She stops fighting, but he doesn’t.

He fights on, and he will not let her stop fighting.

“You’re worth it. _We’re_ worth it. I’m not letting this drive us apart. I swear, Liv, I’ll make adjustments. We’ll make adjustments. We’ll make it work again.”

“I’m tired, Raf. I’m tired, and I’m scared. What if…?”

He grabs her hand, and holds on to it. “No whats. No ifs. There’s only us. It has always been us, and it will always be us.”

Liv shakes her head, but she gives a little smile. “How can you be so sure? How can you still keep the faith?”

“Because,” Barba's voice is steady, solid. “Because it's you and me. Because it's us. Because I don't want to breathe without you.”

She does not say anything, but her fingers tighten around his, and she does not feel like she wants to let go.

He keeps his promise. He realises that no ambitions are worth losing the woman and the toddler he loves. She realises no job accolade is worth destroying the family life she has always wanted.

They’re never going to give up. They’re never letting go of their infinity.

Liv cannot really breathe without Barba.

But she never has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is originally intended to be an angsty drabble ending before the rewind and the remix. But I just can't leave them apart...so I had to attempt some kind of fix it. Within the same drabble. Yeah I'm never going to be able to write pure Barson angst. Even if I do, I'll end up fixing it on the same continuum.


	57. 057: distractions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _distractions_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 502 words

It’s not unusual at all to see the light on in ADA Barba’s office after hours, and it’s not unusual to see Barba and Liv cooped up in the office, surrounded by court documents, case files, a scotch glass and a wine glass.

But it maybe is a little unusual to see Liv’s head on Barba’s lap, her glasses perched on her nose as she studies the DNA report in her hand. His hand is resting on her stomach, fingers idly slipping under the hem of her blouse as he frowns at one of the witnesses’ statements.

“Raf,” she says, removing his hand from underneath her top, where his fingers were previously tracing circles on the bare skin near her ribcage. “Stop distracting me.”

He turns to look at her, corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Are you so easily distracted now, Lieutenant?”

“Shhh, I’m trying to concentrate.”

His hand starts to wander again, sliding down the curve of her hip, and she grabs his hand again, stilling it. “Rafael,” she says again, her tone reprimanding.

He leans down, and kisses the tip of her nose, and then her mouth. “Come on, Liv, why don’t we take a break?”

She huffs, and then sits up. “We _took a break_ half an hour ago.”

“That wasn’t my doing. I wasn’t the one _experimenting_ with my suspenders.”

Liv gives him a smirk. “Are you complaining?”

He scoops up her legs, and drags her onto his lap. “On the contrary, I am open to more experimentation.”

She smacks him lightly on the arm with her folder, but makes no move to shift away from her current position on his lap. “I’m not. We have work to do. Honestly, Raf. I’m starting to think that those days of squabbling with you were not that bad after all.  At least we managed to get work done.”

Barba runs his hand up her back, and presses a kiss on her jaw, nuzzling her neck. “I’m disappointed to hear that you prefer squabbling to this.”

“Oh believe me, I prefer _this_ infinitely more, but it doesn’t take away the fact that we actually do need to work.”

“All work no play makes Liv a dull girl.”

“I’ve always thought that you’re the bigger workaholic of this duo…what happened to the Barba who makes me go through my statements five times in a row?”

“ _You_ happened,” he says, in a tone that is not entirely in jest. “Now all I want to do is to kiss you five times in a row.”

Liv smiles, looping an arm around his neck. “Charmer.”

He smirks, and leans forward to kiss her but she stops him, pressing a finger against his lips. “Let’s finish the prep, and then we can…relax.” She twists her fingers around one of his suspenders, and whispers in his ear. “I believe _someone_ has mentioned a fantasy about fucking me on his desk?”

His eyes darken, and he growls. “You’re playing dirty.”

“I only learn from the best, Counselor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great, now I have office desk shenanigans floating in my head. Haven't even dealt with couch shenanigans yet...
> 
>  **EDIT 29th Nov** : Yeah, they [made it to the desk.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8642005/chapters/19928401)


	58. 058: cold turkey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _cold turkey_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr] - it was turkey, but I've never celebrated Thanksgiving in my life, so I'm kinda cheating by putting a different spin to the prompt.

“I’m home!” Liv calls out, closing the door behind her and hanging up her coat.

“We’re in the living room,” Barba’s voice sounds out, and she smiles, quickening her step, anticipating seeing her two boys. She had barely seen him at work today as he was all tied up in a grand jury inquiry, and she missed him.

She entered the living room to see Barba stretched out on the couch, jacket off, tie and suspenders undone, one arm slung across his forehead. Noah is happily clambering all over him, tapping on his chest with a plush toy ball, but he didn’t move an inch.

Liv frowns, and sits on the arm of the couch. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Headache,” he mumbles. “A fuc…” he stops as Liv jabs him hard on the shoulder. “I mean, a really terrible one. And I feel exhausted.”

She removes his hand from his forehead, and finds herself staring into tired green eyes. She brushes back his hair, feeling his temperature. “Are you sick?”

“Urgh,” he grunts, and carefully sets Noah on the floor as he sits up. “Sick of Carisi, maybe.”

“What?”

“He bet that I couldn’t go a day without coffee. I’m determined to prove him wrong…and I have six more hours to go, but I feel half dead.” Barba slumps back against the couch, groaning.

“…You’re subjecting yourself to torture by going without caffeine, cold turkey, so you can win a bet?” She asks disbelievingly.

He pauses. “Now you had said it out loud, it does seem rather stupid.”

Liv shakes her head, and switches on the coffee machine. “I’m going to make sure you’re caffeinated right away, I do _not_ want to face a cantankerous ADA going through withdrawal symptoms for the next six hours.”

“Can you not tell Carisi?”


	59. 059: touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _touch_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: prompt from @thebarsondaily on tumblr

“Fin, Amanda, talk to the neighbours, find out everything you can. Carisi, get the footage from the cameras on his street. Barba, I need that warrant.”

Chairs are pushed back as they all file out of Liv’s office, all except for Barba, who remain seated.

“Barba? The warrant?” She prompts.

He stands up, and walks closer to her, his hand hovering above her hip. “I’ll get you that warrant, but first…”

“Lieu, I need…” Carisi stops. “Oops.”

Barba steps back, scowling at Carisi.

* * *

They’re granted a small victory as the judge refuses to grant the perp bail. The courthouse hallway is relatively empty at six o’clock in the evening, and Barba edges Liv to the side, up against the wall.

“Raf!” Liv hisses, but a tiny smile plays at the corner of her mouth. He smirks back at her, and leans closer, when the door beside them flies open. They jump apart, and out walked Ed Tucker, with his usual frown.

“Lieutenant, Barba,” he acknowledges curtly, and it takes all of Barba’s willpower not to glare at him.

* * *

The lift doors close, and Barba reaches out to grab Liv’s hand, but before he can do so, the doors open again, to reveal Chief Dodds.

“Benson, great I caught you. Come to my office for a while. I have something to discuss with you…”

Barba grits his teeth, and shifts away from Liv.

* * *

Liv opens the door. “I’m ho…” her sentence is lost as she finds herself pushed up against the door, a pair of lips claiming hers in a demanding manner.

“I’ve been dying to touch you all day,” he growls, running his hands down her sides under her blouse. “And now we’re finally alone, I don’t think I want to stop.”

“No one’s stopping you, Counselor.”

 


	60. 060: blush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _blush_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: weekly prompt from thebarsondaily @ tumblr

They're at it again. The rest of the squad leans back and watches as Liv begins pacing the room, throwing daggers at Barba.

"We have a witness and a positive ID of the perp from the vic, and you're telling me it's not enough for a warrant?" She snaps. 

"Liv, for God's sake. I sympathise with her, I really do, but do I need to remind you that she isn't exactly without vendetta when it comes to her ex? And that the witness picked the wrong guy at line-up initially?"

Liv walks up to Barba, placing her hands on the table and leaning over him. "Barba, you know you're just being difficult."

Fin yawns and takes out his phone, scrolling through it. Amanda flips open a gossip magazine hidden in her case folder, and Carisi begins drawing cartoons on his legal pad. They all know this is going to take a while, so they might as well entertain themselves.

"You can't keep doing this to me. This case is paper-thin so far. I need more, and you know it," Barba says peevishly.

"Well, without the warrant, how the fuck are we supposed to get you more?" 

Carisi swivels around in his chair and whispers in Amanda's ear. "Twenty bucks to say that Barba gives in first."

She shakes her head. "Nah, thirty bucks to say Liv will cave."

They turn their attention back to Barba and their boss. They're both standing now, face to face with each other, with near identical scowls.

"Oh, just kiss already, you two," Fin grumbles.

A blush rises in Liv's cheeks, and to his horror, Barba feels his face getting warm, too. It doesn't help that that is exactly what they are _kind_ of thinking.

They both whirl around, glaring at Fin.

"Shut up, Fin!"


	61. 061: christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _christmas_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: weekly prompt from thebarsondaily on tumblr

Christmas had never meant that much to both Liv and Barba. Growing up, it certainly wasn’t the stereotypical scenario of a gorgeous tree with ornaments, and lots of presents beneath it. There was only a tree in the Benson household when Serena was sober enough to remember that it was Christmas. Barba didn’t get too many Christmas presents either, as his father deemed most things - to be _basura_.

As they graduated into adulthood, their jobs took precedent over everything else. Being that she didn’t exactly have a family to speak of, Liv had lost count of the times she was standing on duty during Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Barba never forgot Christmas Eve dinner with his abuelita and his mother, but more often than not, one could find him in his office during the festive season.

But things are going to be different this year, as Barba knocks on the door of Liv’s apartment, his arms are full of presents. Liv opens the door, and laughs at the sight of him, teetering precariously with his load.

“He wouldn’t let me help him,” Lucia shakes her head as she steps forward and kisses Liv on the cheek.

“I can manage!” Barba calls out, unloading the presents and stacking them up below a small, but beautifully decorated Christmas tree.

Liv hands him a glass of scotch and gives him a lingering kiss, and they walked into the living room where Noah is sitting patiently. Barba ruffles the toddler’s hair as Lucia gives him a hug.  

“Well, amigo, I believe it’s time for presents.”

“Presents!” Noah cheers and rushes for the tree as the adults laugh. Liv reaches over and squeezes Barba’s hand, watching as Lucia hands Noah a huge box.

From now onwards, Christmas is always going to be meaningful.                   


	62. 062: choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _choices_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]. Wow, it seemed it had been forever since I last wrote anything Barson (or anything at all, to be honest). Here’s to hoping I’ll get back into the swing of it.

Liv took off her glasses, glaring at Barba incredulously. “So wait, are you retracting what you said earlier?”

Barba took a sip of his coffee. “No, Liv,” he said, with maddening calm. “I’m saying that that was a point of contention that I failed to consider. Now that I have given it more thought, I do think we can choose to approach it from that angle.”

“Excuse me? I seemed to recall you saying that I was _wrong_ when I raised that point. Besides, what you are saying now contradicted with what you said _then_.”

“If you’d just stop and think this through, Liv, you would’ve realised that I wasn’t wrong then, and I am not wrong now.”

“You can’t have it both ways. Either you were wrong earlier, or you’re wrong now. So choose. Were you wrong, or are you wrong?”

Barba blinked at her. “If you’re trying to confuse me by using word play, it’s not working, Liv. I’m the lawyer in this room.”

“God, you _are_ a stubborn ass. You just can’t admit that you were wrong, can you?”

“But I wasn’t.”

“You know, Barba…it’s okay to make mistakes. And it’s okay to apologise for those mistakes, and acknowledge, for once in a while, that I’m right, and _you_ , were unequivocally and undeniably _wrong_.”

“Keep going, Liv. But I refuse to admit I was wrong, because I wasn’t. And I’m still not,” he feigned a yawn.

“Sometimes, I don’t know whether to punch you or to kick you,” she glared at him.

Barba leaned forward, smirking suggestively. “Option three: you can kiss me instead.”

She snorted, and punched him on the shoulder. As he winced, rubbing his shoulder, she pulled him to her by his tie.

“Option three, then,” she breathed, and pressed her mouth to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squabbling!Barson is my favourite Barson.


	63. 063: snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _snow_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]. Backtracking, one prompt at a time.

“You know, most people would actually _choose_ to escape the cold…I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming up to the mountains when it’s finally getting warmer in New York,” Barba grumbled, winding a thick scarf around his neck.

She grinned and tugged a colourful beanie over Noah’s head, adjusting it as the little boy pulled on his mittens.  

“Mummy says we go ski, Baba!” He said, an excited look on his face.

Barba blanched rather visibly but he managed a smile, patting Noah on the head. “Of course, amigo.”

As they headed out of the door, he muttered under his breath, “I thought we agreed on building snowmen, and no snow sports whatsoever.”

“But Noah wanted to ski,” she said innocently as he shot her a glare. He knew her too well, of course.  

“Manipulating me by using your son? Really? Not your finest moment.”

She bumped him lightly with her hip as they were greeted by a gust of icy air, while Noah ran ahead happily. “Come on, you’ll enjoy it.”

“Liv, I’m Cuban. It’s in my DNA that I like heat and sun. I will _not_ enjoy any activity that involved snow.”

Liv chuckled as she caught up with Noah, leading them all into the ski rental shop. As Noah ran eagerly towards the child-sized skis, she nudged Barba. “Go pick out your skis.”

“What? No, I’m not skiing. I’ll be a very contented observer, thank you very much.”

She was about to reply when Noah ran up, holding bright purple skis, and tugged at his hand.

“Baba ski with me!”

He looked down at the little boy, and sighed resignedly under his breath, knowing he could not refuse him.

“I hate you,” he muttered to her, as Noah dragged him towards the adult skis.


	64. 064: shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _shower_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]. Way too tempted to write pr0n for this but I want the rating for this collection has to stay as it is….so. Also I don’t know how to repair showers or the mechanics of hand showers etc…I call all mistakes artistic license.

“Hey, Barba,” Liv said, poking her head into her living room, where the ADA was engrossed in paperwork for their case.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you know anything about fixing showers?”

He looked up at her, forehead creased. “Excuse me?”

“The shower in my bathroom isn’t working. And Noah wanted a ‘big boy’ shower today, so…”

“Do I look like a plumber or a shower-fixer to you?” He asked, gesturing at his impeccable shirt, tie and pressed slacks.

“Oh, come on, Barba. You’re a man, surely you know your way around household stuff.”

He sighed loudly standing up, and rolling up his sleeves. “Fine, I’ll take a look.”

They walked into the little shower stall, and Barba turned the knobs. Only a very small dribble of water came out from the hand shower, and it remained the same as he tried to increase the water volume. Frowning, he fiddled with the shower head, to no avail.

“I really don’t know, Liv, you need to get a…” As he absently mindedly twisted the shower arm, a huge jet of water spurt out from the hand shower, drenching them both.

Liv yelped and tried to step out of the shower, but her foot slipped, and she fell forwards. Instinctively, Barba reached out to catch her, dropping the hand shower, and they both ended up in a heap on the floor, the hand shower still spraying water.

Barba reached up and shut off the water, and then struggled to stand up, wrapping his fingers around Liv’s wrist and helping her up, too.

“Uhh…thanks for fixing the shower?” She said, sheepishly.

He rolled his eyes, and Liv’s eyes drifted to her wrist, which he was still holding in a firm grip. “Barba?”

He looked down, eyes widening, and then he quickly let go of her wrist.


	65. 065: tickle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _tickle_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 391 words  
> note: prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]. This is over 300 words, I couldn’t cut it down anymore. And also, this so cracky and random and lame.

“Heads up, Counselor!” Barba looked up, just in time to catch the ball launching itself at him, and then he saw Liv bearing down on him from his left. He took off towards his right, dribbling the ball, and then tossed it towards Carisi.

As the ball sailed towards Carisi, Amanda bounced in and intercepted the ball, stealing it, and with one quick motion, passed itl to Liv. Unguarded, Liv dribbled the ball, running, and then jumped, flicking it towards the hoop. The ball sailed through the air, and then dropped into the net with a graceful swish.

“Yes!” Amanda cheered, and then ran up to high-five Liv, Melinda close behind her.

“Us, 30 points, you, 29 points,” Liv said, grinning.

“This is not fair,” Fin protested. “I swear Carisi was purposely trying to sabotage us…I mean, how could you not get that ball, man?”

“It was Barba!” Carisi defended himself. “He has a lousy throw!”

“ _Excuse me_?” Barba’s eyebrows shot up so far, they almost disappeared into his hairline.

“Awww, look at the boys squabbling like girls whilst being losers,” Amanda chortled.

“We’re _one_ point behind. Don’t get too cocky, Detective,” Barba warned, grabbing the ball as Fin passed it to him. He had not even dribbled the ball when Liv sneaked in, manoeuvring the ball away from him as she laughed.

“Hey, that was a time out! You’re cheating!” He cried, outraged, as he took off after her. He caught up to her quickly, and then dug his fingers into the sides of her hips, tickling her.

“Stop!” Liv gasped, giggling as the ball slipped from her grasp, only to be grabbed by Carisi, who then scored a three pointer.

“Foul!” Amanda yelled, running up, only to see Liv and Barba tangled in a heap on floor, Liv laughing helplessly as Barba kept tickling her. She tried to retaliate, grabbing the hem of his shirt, her fingers poking into his sides, as he gave a yelp, and started laughing, too.

“I am disturbed,” Fin announced.

“ _Extremely_ disturbed,” Carisi agreed, staring at his commander and the ADA, who were literally rolling around on the basketball court, giggling like children.

“I’m getting out of here in case they start having sex,” Fin grabbed his towel, and jogged off towards the direction of the locker rooms.

The rest shuddered, and followed suit.

 


	66. 066: old-fashioned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _old-fashioned_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 424 words  
> note: prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]. Gone overboard again…keeping it to 300 words is hard, guys.

“Raf,” Liv whispered between kisses, barely able to think straight as Barba’s hand inched up her ribcage towards her breast. “There’s someone at the door,” she said, trying to sit up, only to be pinned down again.

“I don’t care who’s at the door, I’m not at home,” he said, nibbling on her bottom lip, completely preoccupied as he slipped his hand under her bra.

“Raf!” She placed her hand on his chest and pushed him back, sitting up, as the knocking on the door intensified. “You know what happens if that wakes Noah up…it means you won’t get to have your wicked way with me.”

Barba groaned and stood up, grabbing his shirt from floor. Not bothering to button it, he headed towards the door, fully intent on getting rid of whoever that was on the other side of it.

The door swung opened to reveal Lucia Barba, with a very impatient look on her face. “Rafi, I have been knocking for _ten minutes_ , what are you…” her voice trailed off as she stared at her son, eyebrow raised. “ _Oh_.”

“Mamí,” Barba said, a look of absolute horror on his face. There were many situations where you would not want your mother to be present, and this was undoubtedly one of them.

“Ah, you’ve got company,” she said happily, backing away from the door. “Don’t say a word, I know what to do…”

“Rafael?” Liv called out, padding out to the doorway, and Barba winced when he saw that she had not bothered to put on her skirt back on. She caught sight of Lucia, and then stopped, feeling her cheeks flooding with colour. “Oh. Mrs. Barba.”

“Lieutenant Benson,” Lucia did not look surprised, if anything her smile grew wider. “Not to worry, I am leaving now, I will leave you two alone.”

Liv smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to say. What do you say to the mother of the man whose apartment you were standing in, sans bottoms?

Lucia leaned in and pecked Barba quickly on the cheek, murmuring in his ear. “I have _a_ lot of questions for you, mijo, but now is not the time. But if you’re sleeping with her, then you have to make an honest woman out of her, Rafi.”

“Mamí!!!” He looked like he was ten seconds away from dying in embarrassment.

“Now, now, this is not being old-fashioned, this is being respectful to women.”

As Liv tried to choke back her laugher, Barba desperately wished for the floor to open up and swallow him whole.


	67. 067: gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _gold_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 300 words  
> note: prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]. No actual Barson interaction but it’s Barson…sorta.

“Okay, let’s get the evidence we need the nail this bastard,” Liv said authoritatively, standing up. Gathering her files, she brushed back her hair, and stopped, touching her left ear.

“Hmmm…” she muttered.

“Something wrong, Lieu?” Carisi asked, glancing at her.

“No…I seemed to have dropped my earring. Oh well, can’t be helped,” she shrugged.

* * *

 “I’m just going to get that file on Barba’s desk, Carmen,” Carisi said, hurrying into Barba’s office as the secretary nodded.

He located the file, and was about to make his way back to court when something shiny at the corner of Barba’s desk caught his attention. He bent down, and picked up a small gold stud.

 _Huh, Liv’s earring_ , he thought to himself, pocketing the earring.

He fully intended to give it to Liv immediately, but as the day progressed, he forgot, and when he remembered, she wasn’t at the precinct and he was in a hurry to leave, so Carisi went into her office, and left the earring on her desk.

* * *

“I’ll be just a minute, Carisi. You may wait here,” Barba said, as he went into his apartment for the file they needed. Carisi leaned against the door frame, yawning slightly, and then a small glint of gold caught his eye.

He picked it up, and frowned. Wasn’t this Liv’s earring? But he remembered leaving it on her desk yesterday night…why would it be…

 _Oh_.

He then remembered where he found it the first time. Barba’s office, now Barba’s apartment.

Carisi snickered to himself, putting the earring on the side table by the door. Sure, there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this, but he was willing to bet that those two had something going on between them.

He couldn’t wait to feed the gossip to Fin and Amanda.


	68. 068: rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drabble; _rain_  
>  pairing: rafael barba/olivia benson  
> word count: 750 words  
> note: prompt from thebarsondaily [tumblr]. It was supposed to be simple, short but angsty. But as usual, I had to attempt to somewhat fix it, and boom! There goes the word count…

He felt the rain pelting against him, terrible and ceaseless, felt the rainwater in his hair and in his eyes, and felt the cold biting into his skin, but it was all secondary, so insignificant beside the cold he had felt when he heard Liv’s words, words that were so much more relentless than any thunderstorm.

 _I’m tired,_ she said. _I’m tired of fighting with you, and I’m tired of going through this same fucking cycle that never seems to end_.

She didn’t give him a chance to say anything, to protest, to clarify, or even just to yell at her, she simply got up, and left Forlini’s, and when he finally took the decision to run after her, she was long gone, and he was left standing in the rain.

* * *

The thunderstorm was still raging outside.

“Good night, baby,” Liv whispered, smoothing back Noah’s hair, and turning off the lights, leaving only the night light on.

Wearily, she wandered into her living room and poured herself a glass of wine. She sat down on the couch, her head heavy. The way Barba had looked – bewildered, confused and angry – as she left him sitting in Forlini’s, weighed on her mind.

“I made the right decision,” she whispered, trying to convince herself. It was getting to be too much. Real anger and some semblance of bitterness had started to creep into the usually affectionate, albeit competitive banter between them, and it was getting to be more and more apparent.

Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, her and relationships. They never last, and she should just stop looking. She had Noah, and that should be all she’d ever need.

A sharp knock on her door jolted her out of her thoughts. She contemplated ignoring it, at this time of the night, it was probably a neighbour with nothing important to say. If it was any of her squad with an emergency, they’d call. But the knocking persisted, and sighing, she made herself get up, and  opened the door to reveal a soaking wet Barba.

“Rafael,” she said guardedly. “Rafael, I really don’t…”

He grabbed her shoulders, and then took her mouth with his, cutting off her words. “You must be crazy to think I’d let go of us, just like that,” he breathed, as they broke apart.

She had been trying so hard not to cry, she didn’t even cry when she ended it with him, but now she found her tears spilling over as her fingers tightened their grip on his forearms.

“Aren’t we worth fighting for, Liv? Are you seriously giving up on this after a few bumps on the road?” He asked, his voiced laced with hurt.

She shook her head, her words stumbling out. “I’m tired. I’m tired, and I’m scared. It’s just…all of it, all of _them_ , it never ends well. With you…”

“I’m not _them_ , Liv, I’m not any of them,” he whispered roughly, and kissed her again. “And I’m not letting you end this when we haven’t even tried to properly fix whatever that you think is going wrong between us.”

He gazed her steadily, his eyes earnest and his jaw set in determination. He wasn’t going to let her go. He wasn’t _ever_ going to let her go.

She swallowed, her throat thick with tears, unable to form the words she wanted to say. He came back for her. He was the only one who did. Haden didn’t, Cassidy didn’t, Tucker didn’t, no one did.

But Barba did. And he was here now, standing in front of her. Telling her that he wasn’t going to give up on her. On _them_.

The last of her defences crumbling, she leaned into him, her arms sliding down his to entwined themselves around his waist. He smoothed down her hair, resting his hand at the small of her back, holding her close to him.

“I’m never leaving you,” he said, his tone resolute.

“Okay,” she nodded. _I’m never leaving you, too_ , she wanted to say, but she was still finding it hard to speak.

“I’m sorry, I’m getting you all wet,” he said suddenly, in delayed realisation.

She laughed through her tears, and hug him tighter, not caring that she was wet, not caring that Barba was leaving puddles of water all over her hallway.

All she cared was that he was here with her. He didn’t leave her, even though she asked him to leave.

 _He came back for her_.

And she loved him.


End file.
